Visions and Passions
by Zute
Summary: Bann Teagan's obsession or Isolde's obsession? Which will claim the most victims? This tale is a bit darker than my others. There are some references to my Wisteria Cousland stories but it stands mostly on its own. Teagan/Isolde/Eamon/Others
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: ** There are references to things that occurred in "Wisteria Cousland, The Hero of Ferelden: Vol III" but for the most part this story should stand on its own. This story does start dark but it is always darkest before the dawn.

* * *

**Visions and Passions**

Teagan always had a talent for painting. After the Orlesian occupation he studied with well-known Ferelden artists. He was a fair portrait painter and his landscapes were decent but his passion had always been for painting battle scenes. They were dark and bloody and more than a few hung in halls around Ferelden. He had been working on one for quite some time that he had not been able to finish, "Death of the Archdemon". He hadn't seen the Archdemon until after it had died, or seen exactly how it died. But he did hear accounts from the survivors. The only part of the painting uncompleted was her, _Wisteria Cousland_.

Alistair he thought he had captured fairly, delivering the killing blow to the dragon, but he could never seem to quite picture Wisteria there. What would she have done? He always wanted to ask her how it had happened but he thought it would be a painful thing for her to relive. Someday perhaps he could find out.

But now a new vision was burning inside his mind. A vision of death and beauty. The way he had seen her, tumbling into the engagement party, fighting the palace guards, covered in blood, her hair and eyes wild, her face pale, the unnoticed slash on her arm. The moment he knew he was in love with her and would die for her. Or he would die_ of her._

She did not love him and he could not stop himself from seeing this vision. If he could just paint it, perhaps it would be removed from his mind and he could find some peace from the ache in his heart and the memory of her leaving, her riding off, towards Highever with the man she did love.

The canvas stretched in front of him and he began sketching his vision on it with charcoal. He worked until late in the night, drinking heavily. In his mind it was not a ballroom, with broken glassware and silverware scattered about. It was the Deep Roads and there was broken rock, ruined dwarven architecture and she was surrounded by darkspawn, fighting for her life. It would be the picture of a wounded warrior queen. One where the viewer wasn't sure if she would survive or not.

**A Ball**

Long deprived of sufficient sleep, he finally dreamed of her at the ball after the royal wedding. The deep red of her dress was like the blood of the guard she had slain. Always he saw her in red in one form or another. His right hand on her slender waist and his left enfolding hers as they spun around the floor. Those blue eyes danced too, looking into his. Her lips sculpted into a sweet smile. Her hand in his was not small and delicate. It was strong and calloused, trained to kill. It contrasted so completely with her elegant beauty tonight. He wondered what the rest of her looked like.

He spun her out of the ballroom to the balcony and kissed her. His hands encircling her waist. She blushed shyly. Then she dissolved, replaced by a scene of pastoral beauty. He stood looking out over a valley filled with flocks of sheep and he heard a simple mournful melody played on a horn the shepherds played to call their sheep. An answering melody came from across the valley. It filled him with peace. Some of the sheep began to leave the valley, to return to their home for the night. The sun was setting in glorious shades of scarlet and the valley was tranquil. Again came the first part of the mournful melody and a few moments later, the response from across the valley. It was like a conversation between lovers. Finally the first part came again as the sky began to finally darken into deeper blues. There was no response this time. It left him feeling bereft for some reason. The last of the sheep began to leave the valley and the sky was consumed by deep blue and then black.

* * *

Eamon wandered into Teagan's studio, late in the day looking for his brother. He found him snoring, smelling like a distillery, on the divan. There was another new canvas. Yet another painting of Wisteria Cousland as she had looked on the night of the engagement party. Eamon shook his head. His brother was obsessed with the woman. So much so he was becoming worried. Teagan drank too much, ignored his Bann, ignored everything but painting another picture of the woman. Teagan had tried to hide the obsession from his brother but Eamon found a stack of paintings. Each one depicting her, as she was at the engagement party, dressed in black leather, covered in blood, disheveled and beautiful. The paintings had gotten progressively more bizarre, with stranger colors, more blood, more death.

* * *

**March to the Scaffold**

A wreath of bitter smoke hung about the place. It was the place he came to dream. He paid his coin to the man and they handed him a pipe. He inhaled the opium and his limbs went heavy and reality tattered and frayed.

_She crawled onto him, like a big cat. Her lips so red in her pale skin, her ebon hair dragged across his cheek as she breathed his name, Teagan. Her lapis eyes, half-open, held his own. Her first kiss was always soft, the next one bruising. He moaned. His own kisses were delicate, gentlemanly, appropriate. But she never was appropriate and soon he lost himself in her carnality. He drowned in the exquisite sensations from her hands, mouth, body. She took from him, with brutal disregard of his respectability, and she gave the same in return._

Then slowly the dream dissolved and he found himself thrusting into some slattern who wasn't her, grunting and moaning as he clung to the wisps of his dream. Sometimes the dream wouldn't fade until _she _lay in his arms, sated and sleeping, and he wouldn't have to see who he had just emptied himself into thinking it was _her_. Tonight he was not so fortunate. He threw money on the bed and told the woman to bring him more opium. He wanted to chase the dream further.

_They were back in the Ballroom and he was kissing her again on the balcony. Her eyes sparkled but her lips were twisting with scorn. She laughed at him and pushed him away. Behind her stood the elf, dressed in black, his handsome face looking at her hungrily. The elf's hand curled behind her neck and he turned her to him and pulled her in for a kiss that bespoke ownership, possession, familiarity of the sort Teagan did not have. The elf looked up at Teagan, his eyes cruel and mocking and plainly saying "She is not yours". _

_Teagan felt a fury he rarely had felt. "Then she will not be yours!" He roared and stabbed her through the back. The red of her dress grew darker with another red. Her knees crumpled and she fell to the floor at the feet of the elf. Her eyes found Teagan's one last time and they held reproach. Her mouth made one last sound, "Why?" she whispered. Then she moved no more._

His breath reverberated through his body and echoed in his ears. With each breath he drew, his perspective changed._  
_

_(Out)  
_

_The soldiers led the man to the scaffold. There was a crowd gathered to watch the murderer of the Hero of Ferelden. They jeered and threw things at the monster. He peered closer and recoiled in shock. It was him._

_(In)  
_

_A rotten apple hit him in the middle of his back. His hamstrings were torn on the rack and he could barely walk. His shoulders dislocated. Death would be relief from the abuse he suffered while waiting his final punishment. Still nothing could erase the sight of her blood pooling under her and her final unanswered question, not even his own execution._

_(Out)  
_

_The man walking to the scaffold stumbled, he looked haunted. Death would be a mercy. They forced him to kneel, his neck stretched over the block of wood, the basket waiting. An executioner dressed in black, his face obscured by a black mask walked out to the cheers of the crowd._

_(In)  
_

_Teagan's broken body screamed at the position. It would end soon. Perhaps he would see her soon. He could explain his madness to her, why he had done it._

_(Out)  
_

_The executioner drew back his axe and the crowd fell silent. It fell, striking true. The head fell into the basket and the crowd screamed with release. _

(In)

_He thought of her, with his last thought. Her beautiful face as he held her close, carrying her into the palace, her scent and the sound of her laughter._

**Witches Sabbath**

The opium he smoked wasn't done with him yet. The doxy he had paid had left him senseless to all but his dreams while she serviced other men.

_It was his funeral. But no one came. They had dug a hole in the ground to put his corpse. A murderer's ending, not the blazing pyre Andrastian's expected. His body lay beside the hole, he observed this as an outsider. A haggard old woman came and mumbled words over him, shedding blood. Suddenly his consciousness slammed into his corpse. He rose and stood, feeling whole once more. His body no longer broken. The hag laughed and began to dance. Others came to dance with her. Horrors he could not described joined in the dance. Darkspawn, abominations, demons all circled around him. A tune he recognized as one played at funerals was warped and contorted into the music they danced to._

_Then they stopped and turned towards the dark where she strode towards him. Clad in only some shimmering blood red robe that parted to reveal her legs as she walked. She lay down upon his grave, now filled with dirt and covered with grass, unmarked, long forgotten. She writhed here, her robe slipped off and pooled around her like blood. She beckoned to him and he lay down on top of her and possessed her again. The demonic dance began around them as he took her upon his own grave. He found release in her and she evaporated from under him, and he was face down on top of his own grave, his mouth full of dirt and grass._


	2. Chapter 2

Eamon found Teagan in a squalid opium den in Denerim. His cheeks gaunt, his clothes unkempt, dirty, smelling like opium and whores. He hired a wagon and had him transported to Redcliffe, he was too far gone to ride. His wife was shocked by Teagan's condition. She personally took charge of nursing him back to health but Eamon did not think she should be the one to look after him. Isolde had always seemed a little too fond of Teagan. He didn't doubt her loyalty but mostly because he was certain his brother was loyal to him. He didn't blame his wife, he was much older than she was. But he had another reason. Teagan needed to be rid of his obsession with the Cousland girl.

"Isolde, let Sorcha attend to Teagan." He asked her, kissing her on the cheek as he poured her a cup of tea. Sorcha was the daughter of a wealthy merchant who was living with them and attending to Isolde sometimes. She was rather uninterested in learning to be a proper lady and preferred riding and hunting to other more feminine pastimes.

Isolde looked at Eamon wondering why he would interfere. "Why? What does Sorcha know of such things? I don't think she has any training in healing."

Eamon did not want to tell Isolde about the nature of Teagan's illness. Isolde sometimes spoke without thinking and anything told to her may end up common knowledge in court. "Sorcha is an attractive young woman, the sort that might interest Teagan. I think it might lift his spirits to have her about."

Isolde did not look pleased. She entertained her own romantic notions about Teagan being nursed back to health by her, their unspoken passion awakening as he gained strength. The fantasy often evolved into tragic tales of star-crossed lovers. Hearing that Eamon wanted to interest Teagan in her lady-in-waiting did not please her one bit. She set her jaw in the stubborn way Eamon recognized well. "I do not think it would be appropriate, Eamon. Sorcha is not of noble blood and encouraging that match would be... inappropriate."

"My love, be reasonable. Sorcha is just the sort of girl that would catch his fancy. Not some helpless confection that has fallen off a cake, but one with spirit and a love of adventure." He appealed to his wife.

"A confection? Is that what you think of women of noble breeding?" She challenged him.

"No, my love, I wasn't talking about you, of course. But remember my own sister, Rowan and Maric's mother. Those are the sort of women that influenced Teagan when he was young and I think the kind that would catch his fancy."

Isolde's eyebrows arched. "Like Wisteria Cousland, you mean."

Eamon shrugged, "Yes, like her."

She gave up, "Very well, I will have Sorcha attend to him. But I will have to supervise her, she knows nothing of looking after the ill."

Eamon hugged his wife. "Thank you, my love."

They chatted about inconsequential matters for awhile.

"Isolde, it occurs to me you haven't visited your friend Amelia in quite some time. Have you seen her new baby yet?"

"Well no, we were busy with the Royal Wedding and then Anora and Fergus came to visit. There just hasn't been time. I would like to go, but with Teagan..."

"I can spare the men for an escort if you'd like to see her." He suggested. "Teagan will be fine. I'll send to the Tower for a healer if one is needed."

Isolde thought for a moment. Amelia was a dear friend and she had so much gossip to tell her from the activities at court. "Very well, Eamon. I think a trip would be a pleasant diversion."

Eamon beamed at his wife. He was happy he could get her away from Teagan, for all their sakes.


	3. Chapter 3

Teagan awoke in his room in Redcliffe. He remembered the trip vaguely. The nightmares and hallucinations of opium withdrawal were terrifying. His dreams of her had turned from beautiful to tortured. _She _was a succubus that was sapping his vigor and sanity. The time between deliriums was hardly better. He suffered bodily from withdrawals. His head constantly throbbed, his muscles ached, his body seemed to reject food. He begged his brother to bring him more of the opium, but he refused. Eamon did give him a little brandy from time to time, not enough to silence the pain but it helped sedate him a little.

The girl was there sometimes too. He scarcely saw her and could not recall her name. She tried to feed him. Other times she wiped his face with a cold, damp cloth. He did his best to ignore her. Sometimes she talked to him about a new foal, or a hunt for a stag. He could barely make sense of her conversation.

After the worst of the withdrawal symptoms he was sleep deprived, anxious and foul-tempered. He snapped at Eamon and the girl, Sorcha - he finally remembered her name - and the servants were afraid of him. At night he could sleep only a few hours and he would awaken feeling his breath coming quickly, his heart pounding, a panic for no reason he could name.

Finally one day he was feeling well enough to leave his room. He found Eamon in his study writing a letter. He sat down in his brother's study and said nothing.

"Teagan," his brother broke the silence, "how are you feeling?"

Teagan shook his head, unable to tell his brother he felt empty. Even his dreams of her were gone now.

"This obsession, Teagan," Eamon shook his head, sighing, "you can't continue like this."

Teagan didn't know his brother had found the paintings. "Obsession?" he queried. He might as well see what he knew.

"With Wisteria. I found the paintings in your studio. Teagan..." Eamon was afraid to probe too hard, "you have to let this go. You are neglecting your responsibilities and this is destroying you. It must stop or someone else will have to take over in Rainesfere."

Teagan sighed, he was ashamed of himself that his brother knew the depths he had sunken to. "I will try, brother," he said with no real conviction in his voice.

Eamon straightened, ignoring the despondency from his brother. "Good. Then tomorrow you can come with me. I need to visit a few farmers to discuss crop yields." He peered at his brother, "Are you well enough to ride a little?"

Teagan shrugged. "Probably."

"Get some rest then and I will see you in the morning." Eamon dismissed his brother who was glad to escape the uncomfortable questioning.

* * *

Sorcha knew she was being paraded in front of Teagan, like cheese in front of a mouse. She was flattered, in a way. She was not a noble so for Eamon to consider her worthy of his brother was probably a compliment. Still, she would rather kiss her horse than Teagan. He just looked so cadaverous. And the man was moody and foul-tempered. No wonder he was unmarried at his age.

She got busy getting their horses ready, Eamon and Teagan were waiting for her, standing nearby watching her, talking to one another about soil erosion and sheep overgrazing. She ignored them for the most part, horses were far more interesting.

After the horses were ready she went over to check on the new foal. It was a beautiful red colt with a black mane. She and the colt had bonded and sometimes she went out into the meadow and they chased one another around, both playing like colts. Eamon had even let her name him; she named him Seamus.

The three led their horses out of the stable and mounted up to go to see Ivan, the farmer having issues with crop yields. Sorcha noticed that even for being a man ill so recently Teagan was a fine rider. His thighs, although thin, were strong as she could see in his snug fitting riding breeches. He sat the trot perfectly, something she struggled with, he absorbed the bumpy gait somewhere in his mid-section. Even though he wasn't familiar with this mount, it responded to him well. She could not help herself from watching him ride, trying to learn from him.

Teagan caught her looking at him and wondered why she was watching him so closely. _Noble hunter, no doubt. _Still she kept to herself, not engaging him in frivolous conversation, and her manner of dress; wearing well-worn, masculine riding clothes seemed to belie the typical fortune-hunter. Her hair, too, was uncoiffured, the disordered russet mass of curls was held back in a loose pony tail. Perhaps he was mistaken.

* * *

Eamon saw Teagan recovering. His face was filling out again, he looked less gaunt, more like the man he remembered. But he was still so silent and withdrawn. He was a man who had his dreams ripped away for his own good. Eamon kept him busy and he took every opportunity to put Sorcha in his path.

"Ser," Sorcha told him one day, "Striker has pulled up lame. I think we should have the veterinarian look at him."

"Get Teagan, Sorcha, he's quite good at treating the horses," Eamon suggested, "He's in his room I think."

Sorcha shrugged and went off to find Teagan, hoping he wasn't going to bite her head off today. She found him staring vacantly at a book. He did look much better these days. His face was still a little gaunt but his clothes didn't fall off him now. One could even call him rather handsome, if one noticed those sorts of things and she prided herself on not noticing.

"Ser, Striker is lame. Arl Eamon sent me to fetch you to have a look at him," she said.

Teagan looked up from the book he was staring at and sighed, "Very well, lets look at him." He accompanied Sorcha to the stable and walked Striker around. He was limping, favoring his right front leg. He picked up the foot and pressed on his hoof. It was difficult to see but there was a small stone wedged in his hoof.

"Sorcha, look at this." He showed her the stone. "Get me the hoof pick." He gently pried out the stone. The horse was still limping so he felt around for any hot spots that might indicate an abscess. "It's probably just bruised in there. Don't let anyone ride him until he has stopped limping." He showed her how to check for cracks and hot spots and other abnormalities of the hoof. She watched him with interest, asking questions that showed her interest in the topic. As they discussed hoof related topics, the colt came up behind her and bumped her in the backside with his head, sending her sprawling on the stable floor.

"Seamus!" she scolded the colt and got up, her pants dusty and covered in bits of straw. The colt butted her in the backside again, nosing her pants with interest. He lipped her back pocket.

Teagan laughed at the colt. "Did you put something in your back pocket he wants?"

"Oh! I forgot," she said laughing. She reached in her pocket and took out a few apple slices. The colt snorfled them greedily. "Come on, Seamus, back to the pasture, you dolt." She walked out of the stable and the colt followed her. Teagan followed too. The colt really seemed fond of the young woman. He watched them walk to the pasture and the colt followed her right in. He kicked up his heels and ran in that wild way colts do, then he turned suddenly and charged her. She ran away from him and bumped her in the back with his nose, then he turned and ran and she chased him. They played tag until she was too exhausted to run anymore.

Teagan leaned on the fence and smiled for the first time in a long time. Sorcha walked over to him, her hair was escaping the ties she used to keep it out of her face and it made her look even messier and wild. He noticed for the first time how dark brown her eyes were. They were warm when she smiled. When he thought about it, he couldn't remember her smiling before. She was a serious lass.

"Does Eamon have a course set up?" Teagan asked.

"For jumping?" She asked.

Teagan nodded.

She shook her head, "I don't think he even has any fences."

"Do you jump?" Teagan asked.

"A little, usually just enough to get by when hunting," she said.

"Ah, so you hunt?" Teagan's interest was piqued.

"Yes, I love to. I'm a fair shot with a bow."

"Perhaps we should do a little hunting..." Teagan suggested.

Sorcha nodded enthusiastically. _Finally, something I like to do!_ She was happy Isolde was gone. She watched the colt run around for awhile then turned and watched Teagan walking back to the main hall. He was definitely filling out his breeches much better. Not that she noticed...


	4. Chapter 4

Isolde's sad reflection stared at her in the mirror.

_He is your missed opportunity, the man you should have married, but not the one with the fine estates and title. He is the man you have seen all these when your husband kisses you with his thick lips and tries to arouse your passion with his clumsy fingers. You want to end the couplings as quickly as possible, how different if it had been the brother. Your flirtations with Teagan have gone on for years now, is that why he never married, he wants you? Perhaps he only waits for his brother's passing and then he will come to you._

_Now your son is gone to the Mage tower and who do you have really? One old man you do not love but pity. You have suffered so much loss and regret. Is it not time to do what you long to do? Have the man you always loved? The kingdom has a strong King and Queen, it does not need Eamon any longer._

Isolde knew what she needed to do now. She would leave Amelia and go to Denerim. You could buy anything in Denerim if you had enough gold. _Even death._

_

* * *

_

In Denerim she disguised herself as a commoner and stayed at a shabby Inn. The accommodations revolted her. She would have to conduct her business as quickly as possible and leave. She picked her way to the market, looking for one whose name she had heard whispered, Cesar. She pulled a cloak around herself and pulled up the hood and asked after him.

As soon as she came near Cesar knew many things. A noble woman, no doubt, looking to poison her husband or perhaps an indiscreet lover. A common enough customer.

"Good day, madam," he addressed her without honorifics as her plain clothing suggested she would wish to be addressed. "How can I help you today? I have many remedies and nostrums: Elixirs of Elf Root to heal many common ailments. Perhaps extract of lily to end an unwanted pregnancy? Or vetch root tea to prevent such?"

Isolde was not sure how to proceed. She looked around the market trying to see if anyone was watching her. She knitted her hands together nervously. Cesar knew the sign.

"Perhaps, madam, I can interest you in something stronger? I have an assortment of solutions to problems. Ways to remove obstacles or inconveniences. Is this perhaps what you are looking for?" Cesar asked, his voice low.

Isolde nodded.

"These _solutions _are not inexpensive, I must warn you."

"I have money," she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

"Very well, then let me ask, do you wish to do this yourself? Or would you like professional assistance? I have associates who may help."

Isolde found herself terrified suddenly now that it seemed so real. Could she really do it herself? She didn't think she could. "I would like assistance," she said, "I do not wish to know how it is done, just that it is."

Cesar nodded, "For a mere twenty gold I can arrange a meeting for someone that can assist you."

Isolde agreed and paid the man, her eyes darting to see if anyone watched.

"Then ask the tavern keeper at _The Devil's Hall_ for a glass of Red Mist Brandy and he will show you where you need to go." Cesar considered a moment, the woman had agreed to the sum without dickering, perhaps...

"Madam," he leaned over to whisper, "there is another item I have that might be of interest to you. It is a candle that, when burnt, inspires a very fierce passion. It is something I only have limited quantities of them so the price is quite steep."

Isolde looked interested, although she was rather dubious. "Does such a thing exist?"

Cesar nodded, and whispered, "There is only one side-effect, the candle also has the property of making one extremely fertile. Even if one has used vetch root tea."

"How much?" she asked.

"Fifty gold," Cesar replied.

Isolde sucked in her breath, "What if it doesn't work?"

"My reputation is sterling, madam, you can ask anyone. But I would return your money if it fails to inspire passion. Fertility, I can't guarantee."

She nodded and handed the man fifty gold.

Cesar put the candle in a wooden box and wrapped it up for her. "Remember, _The Devil's Hall _tavern, ask for Red Mist Brandy." He smiled warmly at the woman. Seventy gold was not bad for a few minutes work.

Isolde took her purpose and nodded nervously. She hurried back to her wretched inn.

* * *

"Red Mist Brandy, please," Isolde asked the barkeeper. He looked at her and nodded grimly and poured her a red drink.

"Three gold," he told her, tripling the usual outrageous surcharge.

Isolde pursed her lips and put three gold into his waiting hand.

He leaned close and whispered, "Hallway on the right, third door on the left."

Isolde got up and went to the door.

A man opened the door when she knocked. His face was scarred and he had a dark tattoo on his neck. He looked days overdue for a shave. He was armed with a pair of swords and he wore worn, dirty leather armor. "Come in," he told her.

She was frightened. He looked like a... a... murderer. Then she realized he was and that only intensified her fear. _Teagan. Teagan. Teagan. _She repeated his name over and over to herself, like a chant, to give herself strength to go on.

"Come in or leave," he growled at her.

She nearly left, but she remembered her ache for Teagan. _I must do this! _She stepped forward.

The man pushed the door shut behind her roughly and it closed with a bang. He stood too closely to her, although she thought being in another room in another inn would be too close to this reprobate. Her hands knitted together again with her fear.

"So, I hear you need some help to solve a delicate matter," he said. "They call me Delicate Dann, problem solver extraordinaire." He made a mocking bow to her. "So tell me about the problem you would like... _solved._"

Isolde cringed back from him and he chuckled, there was nothing delicate about Dann, he was a brute. "My husband..." she said, she found she just couldn't state exactly what she wanted.

"Of course, of course. We specialize in husbands." He laughed. "Tell me then a little about your husband, what is his occupation, his habits, where to find him, and so on."

Isolde realized she was about to reveal who she was by providing this information. She took a deep breath and decided to trust this man. "He is Arl Eamon Guerrin." She swallowed hard.

Delicate Dann looked surprised. He whistled. "That's a pretty difficult contract." He paced. "This isn't going to be easy or inexpensive, you must realize." He thought for a moment. "Your husband is well guarded?"

She shook her head, "Not really, there hasn't been much of a threat against him since the Blight. At our estates, of course, there are guards but he usually goes out without them if he isn't going far." Isolde rather liked the idea of him being killed away from their home, so she wouldn't have to see it.

Dann paused and thought. "It might be easier to use poison. Who hires the servants for your estate?"

"Our senior housekeeper does usually, for the cleaning and such things. The cook hires his own staff himself."

"Could you influence the hiring decisions?" he asked.

Isolde nodded, not imagining how Dann could pass himself off as a servant. "Would _you_ be doing... it?" she asked.

Dann laughed, "No, lady, in your case we have someone skilled with poisons who looks suitable for the part." He tapped his fingers and sized up the difficulty of the feat. "Five hundred gold. Two fifty in advance. Two fifty on success."

Isolde sputtered. "Five hundred? That's robbery!"

"No, lady, it's murder. Entirely different line of work." Dann laughed.

Isolde was going to be utterly broke upon paying the down payment, and she still had the long trip home. Perhaps she could sell a necklace.

"Very well," she agreed. "Just tell me what I must do." She tried to keep Teagan's handsome face in her mind and imagine his arms wrapping around her as she heard the unsavory details of what was to come.

_Teagan, my darling, soon we can be together! _He spirits soared as she walked back to her room. She barely even registered the dirty street around her, the drunks lounging in the doorways and the smells of urine and stale grease.


	5. Chapter 5

The leaves shimmered on the trees above her, green jewels, with the sunlight behind them. Only a little of the light evaded the leafy cover and hit the path where she waited. The smell of decay, humus, pine and tree bark was strong and sensuous to her nose. Her senses were heightened and drawn taut.

She heard the sound of light hooves striking a hard, dirt path and the breathing of a frightened animal approaching. She readied her bow, drawing back on her arrow and, when the animal came into view, she aimed. It came down the path fast, almost faster than she had time to prepare for, but she let loose and the arrow hit the stag in his throat. He fell, struggling to get up, struggling to breathe. Teagan was riding down the path fast, his horse easily jumping over some brush in the way. But she got to the stag first and expertly held his head to steady him, then cut his throat without hesitation, ending his pain and panic. His blood coursed down the path and some splashed onto her well-worn breeches.

Teagan frowned, "Sorcha, I would have done that had you given me a moment more." He dismounted and stood next to her, looking at the dead stag the young woman knelt over. Today her long red hair was nearly tamed into a long braid down her back but even that couldn't completely contain the rambunctious curliness of her hair, those irrepressible curls escaping here and there to spoil any attempt at neatness.

She stood up and shrugged. "No use waiting," she said, "his panic would spoil the meat." She wiped her blade on some leaves and smiled. "Nice looking animal!" she said.

Teagan nodded, impressed with her skills and her sensibility. "I'll go get our pack horse and we can get this big fellow loaded up and show Eamon what an excellent shot you are." He mounted easily, his strength was nearly completely back now and he trotted off.

Sorcha turned to watch him go, his slender form as always looking so at ease on a horse. She told herself that she admired his horsemanship, nothing more.

They dined on venison that night and Eamon praised Sorcha highly on her prize. He watched Teagan smile at the girl as he described their hunt that day. Sorcha grinned with the praise, but she said little, perhaps because Isolde had arrived while they were off hunting. Isolde was acting more highly-strung than normal ever since she returned. She had snapped at Sorcha in disgust when she saw her in her bloodstained hunting clothes. Sorcha had sulked off to wash and change into a dress. Isolde had doted on Eamon, telling him how much she missed him. Hanging onto his arm and kissing him fondly. Displays of affection Eamon hadn't seen since they had courted. He was puzzled by her behavior. Still, he didn't miss her glances at Teagan when she thought no one was watching.

Teagan, Eamon noted, was looking better. He chatted about the hunt, the horses and his glance fell on Sorcha from time to time and he seemed in no rush to look away. And why not? She was a lovely girl with that mass of red hair and those dark, expressive eyes. Her skin was lightly tanned and freckled from the summer sun. In many ways she reminded him of Rowan, their sister, perhaps not a warrior but she was a woman who was not defined by her gender but rather by her interests.

Sorcha was muted by Isolde's presence. _Ladies_ don't discuss hunting or riding or anything halfway interesting. She was sure she would get an earful from Isolde after dinner about how hopeless she was and she would never be a proper lady or wife. Sorcha agreed with her. She never would be a proper lady or wife. _Never_. And she was quite happy with that fact.

Isolde saw how much better Teagan looked and she wished she had been the one to return him to health. Her fantasies of him confessing his love for her while she mopped his feverish face were dashed. He barely looked at her tonight, past welcoming her home and planting a dry brotherly kiss on her cheek. What really alarmed her was how he had praised the girl and her skill with the bow. She needed to keep Sorcha away from him.

* * *

"Angus, I met a delightful woman at Amelia's. She's just moved to Redcliffe to be closer to her... mother", Isolde hoped mother was the right excuse to use, she had no idea how old the woman would be, "she needs a new job and I think she would be a big help to you in the kitchen here. I should like for you to find a place for her."

Angus shrugged, "I don't really need any more help, my lady, but I'm sure we can always find something for her to do."

Isolde nodded, "Yes please do. I'll send her to you when she arrives." She left the kitchen. _That was easier than I thought it would be._

_

* * *

_

Sorcha unpacked Isolde's belongings and came across the fine looking box. She opened it to find inside nothing but a rather plain looking candle. _Odd to protect a simple candle so._ She put the box and candle on Isolde's dresser.

Isolde bustled in and saw Sorcha. She was hanging up her gowns.

"Sorcha, dear," Isolde said, "we should do something with that hair of yours. It is so unruly. Perhaps a shorter style would be more becoming."

Sorcha's shoulders grew tight. _Come near my hair and I will cut you!_ "My lady, don't trouble yourself. My hair is impossible. It is best if I just keep it pulled back." She thought it wise to change the subject. "Is this gown new? It is beautiful." She held up a gown she encountered at random.

Isolde frowned. "No, good heavens. I've had that for years, girl. Don't you pay attention to anything?"

_To what you wear, no._ "I'm sorry, my lady, I just forgot about this one."

"Perhaps you should take a little more care with what _you _wear, Sorcha." She looked at her simple gown. It was so plain yet it fell over her youthful form nicely, showing her small waist and the swell of her hips. "I think I have something that you should wear to dinner tomorrow," she dug through her closet and found a dress that would do nothing for her figure.

Sorcha could barely hide her dislike of the dress. It was layers of stiff, poofy fabric with many bows and ruffles in a shade of pink. _Ugh, pink._ "Thank you, my lady, this is... lovely." She took the horror from her like it was a maggot infested, dead rat.

Isolde smiled. The color would look horrible on Sorcha. It would clash with her hair and make her suntanned complexion look muddy. "It'll be perfect, my dear!"

* * *

The new girl, Nimh, joined the staff that week. Angus didn't much care for her. She seemed to do as little as possible and he caught her in places she didn't belong. Still, he had to accept her help, the Arlessa had insisted the woman needed the job and she was determined to help her. _A first time for everything, that the Arlessa should take on a charity case._

Nimh found Isolde alone, a few days after she arrived, and spoke with her quickly, "Lady, tonight your husband must be the only one to drink the brandy in his study." She told her quickly.

"Very well, Nimh. Just get it over with, the waiting is making me crazy." Isolde barely concealed her nervousness all week.

Sorcha overheard Isolde speaking, although she couldn't quite make out what she was talking about. The new servant came out of her quarters and looked at her directly, with a look that was oddly aggressive and threatening for a servant. Sorcha waited until the servant was out of sight then she went into Isolde's room.

"Oh, Sorcha! You startled me." Isolde said as she entered. Her face was pale and she looked almost ill.

"My lady, are you all right? You don't look well." Sorcha asked.

Isolde's hand rubbed her forehead nervously. "I'm fine, dear, just help me over to the chair." She sat down and fanned herself with her hand.

Sorcha wondered if Isolde's state had something to do with the strange behavior from the new servant. "My lady, did that new servant..."

Isolde's eyes flashed with anger, "Do not meddle, girl. Sometimes when a lady runs an estate such as this she must have words with a servant. It is none of your business!" She raised her hand as though to slap the girl.

Sorcha's face burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, my lady, can I bring you anything?" Isolde was cruel to her at times, it was true, but she had never seen her lose her temper like this.

"Just go, I need to rest." Isolde waved the girl away angrily.

Sorcha left, pulling the door closed behind her quietly. Then she let the pleasant face she wore for Isolde's benefit dissolve into the scowl she truly felt. She went to her room and changed into her riding clothes, kicking the dress she had worn into a corner. She stormed out to the stable, muttering curses, vowing that she would write a letter to her father and beg him to let her come home.

Teagan heard her coming before he saw her. The string of cursing alerted him to someone coming. He waited to see what form was attached to this outpouring of female anger. Sorcha turned the corner into the stable and nearly plowed into him.

"My lord!" she said, "I'm sorry." She bit her lip and looked embarrassed as well as angry.

Teagan chuckled, "Nothing to worry over, Sorcha, I've often felt the same myself." He put a friendly hand on her shoulder wanting her to meet his eyes. "What has you so upset? And where did you learn such colorful language?"

She looked up at him, her dark eyes were still smoldering with some unspoken fury. "It is nothing, my lord. I lose my temper too easily."

He smiled at her and brushed his hand against of her wayward locks of red hair. "It goes with the hair, they say. At least, that is what I was always told."

The tension in her eyes eased some at the comment. "You always seem so even-tempered, well except for when..." she realized she was about to bring up his illness when he had been an absolute horror to be around and she blushed.

"Except for when I was ill?" He finished for her. "I suppose I wasn't so pleasant to be around then. I'm sorry if I was rude to you, I wasn't myself at the time." The thought of it made him feel a pang of regret. This girl had been nothing but kind to him.

Sorcha felt bad for having the subject slip out. "No, it is I that should apologize, my lord, I did not mean to let that slip out." She looked down. "I was just going to go for a ride," she tried to change the subject.

"Call me Teagan, please." He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. "Can I ride with you?"

She nodded. She would have preferred to go alone and work off some of her anger, but she did not want to be rude.

"Do you think Striker is ready to be ridden?" he asked her.

She nodded, happy he would think enough of her opinion to ask. "He seems sound again and I'm sure he would love to stretch his legs again."

She saddled up Osgar, one of her favorites especially when she wanted to go fast. He wasn't the handsomest horse, but he was strong and fast.

"Hm, in the mood for some speed, I see," Teagan said as he watched her prepare Osgar. "Perhaps I should choose a different mount so I can keep up. Which would you suggest?"

"Rosheen, is a fast filly, my... Teagan, perhaps as fast as Osgar but she doesn't have his wind." She nodded to the black horse.

Teagan nodded, "Rosheen it is then." He saddled her and they lead their mounts out of the stable and mounted.

"Race to the bridge leading out of the village, Sorcha?" he challenged her.

She nodded. _He can't beat Osgar._

"1...2...3....go!" he shouted.

They kicked their horses into a gallop. Rosheen leapt to the front early on but when the way became steeper, Osgar made up the difference. Every time the way became steep, Osgar edge ahead but Rosheen excelled on the flat. Still the path was steep enough that Osgar barely won. The horses and their riders were both winded when they arrived.

"I concede!" Teagan dismounted and bowed deeply to Sorcha.

Sorcha dismounted too, the horses needed a rest after that breathtaking ride. They lead them over to the edge of the cliff, where they sat while the horses browsed. The view was pretty, the picturesque village was nestled between the cliffs and Lake Calenhad. The sun was just beginning to soften in a soft late afternoon haze. There were some pretty boats on the lake, probably fishing boats.

"That's pretty," she said quietly looking at the scene before her.

"It is," he replied, but he wasn't looking at the village. He was looking at her and really noticed for the first time how lovely she was. There was something of a wildness to her, like a forest creature, and something innocent too. Strange how you could say that about someone who had no qualms about delivering the killing stroke to a stag. Her innocence was her lack of pretenses and something more. She also seemed entirely miserable being lady-in-waiting to Isolde. He could appreciate that. Isolde made him nervous. It always seemed like she was wanting something from him and he didn't know what. Or at least, he hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

"So, will you tell me what had you so angry earlier?" Teagan asked.

Sorcha sighed. _How do you tell someone you find his sister-in-law infuriating and annoying? _"I just don't think I'm cut out to be a lady-in-waiting to the Arlessa."

Teagan smiled and nodded. "You're not," he agreed.

She looked hurt when he said that.

"Oh, I didn't mean that as anything but a compliment, Sorcha," he said. "Face it, you like to hunt and ride and she likes to what? Go shopping? Have dresses made?" He mimicked Isolde's accent, "Sorcha! Oh look at you, girl, what in Maker's name is that on you? It looks like blood!"

She laughed, he did a good impersonation of her. "She did about faint when I told her it was blood from the stag we killed. I thought she was going to box my ears."

Teagan laughed with her. "You know, perhaps I can talk to my brother, you'd make a fine stable master and his current one is probably ready to retire. Would that suit you better?"

Sorcha nodded, "I'd love to do that, only one problem... my father sent me here to be the Arlessa's lady so I'd learn finer manners." She grimaced at him. "It hasn't worked, has it?"

Teagan shrugged, "Nonsense, your manners are better than many nobles I know. You don't embarrass yourself at meal times and use the wrong fork and you speak well and politely," he poked her in the ribs to get her to laugh, "unless you're angry and think no one is listening." He chuckled.

She laughed with him. "Just don't tell her, please. She nearly slapped me today as it was."

Teagan looked surprised, "Really? I never heard of her doing that even to a servant. What happened?"

She shrugged, "I was concerned. She seemed upset after she talked to that new servant today, Nimh, I was just asking her about it and she almost slapped me for _meddling._"

Teagan frowned. "I'm sorry, Sorcha. She has always been high-strung. It seems like she's getting worse as she ages." He put his arm around her and gave her a friendly squeeze. "I'm here to talk if you need a friendly ear."

Sorcha turned to him, tears stinging behind her eyes. It was comforting to think she had a friend here, one she could confide in. "Thank you, Teagan."

The sun was starting to fade and the boats were coming back to the dock. The air was starting to get chilly.

"We should probably go, I have to figure out to put on the horrible dress she ordered me to wear tonight." She looked at Teagan wondering how he would react to hearing her true feelings about Isolde and the fashions she was stuffing her into.

Teagan shook his head. "Hm, I could rescue you from that fate. The tavern usually has decent meals. We could eat there tonight."

Sorcha shook her head, "Isolde will be furious if I didn't show up for dinner."

"Not if I take responsibility," he said, "she wouldn't dare. I promise, she will hold you blameless."

"All right then, I will brave her wrath if you will protect me!" she laughed. Just then the scales tipped a bit. Sorcha thought she might rather kiss Teagan than her horse, if she had to kiss either one.

* * *

Note: Did you know lots of the names in Ferelden are Irish? Fergus, Eamon, Riordin, Cullen, Niall are just a few. I've continued trying to use Irish names in my story.


	6. Chapter 6

Isolde fumed over supper. _Where are Teagan and Sorcha? Has that slut seduced him? _

"Darling, what is it?" Eamon asked, noticing her frown.

"I'm just worried about Sorcha and Teagan, why didn't they come to dinner? Where did they go?" Isolde looked more furious than worried, Eamon thought.

Eamon guessed his wife was becoming jealous of Sorcha. "Don't worry, Isolde, I'm sure they were just delayed. They'll be back soon. Besides, they can take care of themselves, we don't need to worry about them."

Isolde harrumphed, "I'm worried more for Teagan. Sorcha seems to have designs on him. She is unsuitable!" she whined.

Eamon indulged in a little smile hoping his wife was right. As near as he could tell so far Sorcha seemed uninterested in his brother and Teagan had only just begun to notice her. "Isolde, they're both adults. Both unattached. If nature should take her course then I see no harm in that."

Isolde slammed down her empty wine glass, making the silverware jump. "Oh, of course _you_ would say that. The girl is _une putain sale_! She dresses in filthy, men's clothes. Did you not see her covered in blood today? What sort of wife would she make a man like Teagan." She stabbed at her food viciously.

Eamon knew enough Orlesian to know his wife had called Sorcha a nasty name. He smashed his fist to the table. "I will _not _have you talking about her like that, Isolde. She is a decent girl and of a good home, you know that." The way she had said _Tee-gan _grated on him, she drew out the two syllables in his name like she was caressing it. He was getting sick of the way she had been acting, especially since she got back from visiting Amelia.

Isolde stared at him in shock. She couldn't remember the last time he had been so angry. "How dare you speak to me so!" her voice fell and she nearly hissed at him. "Don't you care at all about your own brother? Would you want Teagan to settle for... _that_?"

Eamon glared at her. "You need to stop whatever obsession you have about Teagan, right now. Who he marries is none of your concern. It certainly isn't going to be you, _madam_, as you are already married, in case you have forgotten."

Isolde gave voice to her fury in a string of Orlesian obscenities and she flung her empty wine glass at Eamon's head. It missed wildly but hit a bowl filled with gravy which splashed them both.

Eamon wiped the gravy off his shirt and face. He rose to his feet and giving her a final look of warning and left the dining room to hear her sobbing and screaming after him. He went to his study and shut the door.

Isolde collected herself quickly. It would all be over soon. She went to her own room to wait.

* * *

Teagan and Sorcha came in after dark, well past dinner time, to find only servants around, no sign of Eamon or Isolde anywhere.

"They must have retired early," Teagan said.

"Maybe I should see if Isolde is still up," Sorcha said, not wanting to go.

Teagan shook his head, "No, you'd better wait until after I've had a chance to talk with her."

"Very well. I'd rather not have to face her alone right now truthfully," Sorcha said. "Well, goodnight," she didn't really want to go, "thank you for rescuing me. I should probably go."

"Let's go to the kitchen and see if there is anything sweet left from dinner," Teagan suggested.

They arrived at the kitchen to find it nearly deserted except for a servant was slipping out the back door, Nimh. She was carrying a large travel bag with her. She didn't see them.

"Well, it looks like Nimh decided not to stay with us." Teagan commented. "You'd think she would have the decency to tell us in the morning, instead of slinking off in the night."

Sorcha frowned, Nimh had been a strange woman. "You might want to count the silverware," she said, remembering the look Nimh had given her earlier that day.

Teagan mused, she could be right. Servants generally don't slip off into the night unless they're stealing something. "Maybe we should let Eamon know."

They went to Eamon's study and found the door shut, which was unusual. Teagan knocked, "Eamon, it's Teagan." There was no answer. He waited a moment or two longer and opened the door. The fire was still burning brightly and he could see the back of Eamon's head as he sat in his favorite chair in front of the fire.

"Eamon," he said.

There was no response.

He crossed over to the chair and looked at his brother. _Sleeping? _"Eamon?" he shook him by the shoulder. He head fell forward limply and the glass he was holding rolled out of his hand and onto the rug covering the floor. "Eamon", Teagan said louder. He slapped his face gently. "Come on, Eamon, wake up."

Sorcha came over and looked. She gasped. He looked... dead. She put her fingers on his neck looking for a pulse, she felt nothing except that his skin seemed a little cooler than normal.

"Teagan," she gripped his arm.

"Eamon, wake up," he shook him again.

"No, Teagan." She tugged him trying to get him to look at her.

Finally he looked at her. "I'm sorry, Teagan, he's gone." She had tears in her eyes. "There is no pulse."

Teagan's face went blank as he tried to process the information. "No," he moaned. He knelt down next to his brother. "Eamon, no." He wrapped his arms around his brother and cried.

Sorcha watched, not knowing what to do. Her eyes were welling with tears. Eamon had been so kind to her. He had stepped between his wife's temper and her on many occasions. She put a hand on Teagan's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice her. _Perhaps I should tell Isolde. _

She was about to leave when she saw the glass that had fallen and the brandy decanter next to him. It was nearly empty, he must have had a lot tonight. The servants usually kept them half full.

Then she remembered Nimh's expression earlier in the day and her slipping out the door. _Did she have something to do with this?_ She wanted to tell Teagan but he was so grief stricken she thought he wouldn't understand. _What should I do? Wait to tell him tomorrow?_ _It is probably nothing but I should go after her and just ask her a few questions. But if Nimh did this, she's a murderer. _ She took the decanter with her and poured the remaining brandy out the window, just in case.

Sorcha crouched down next to Teagan, trying to contact him through his grief. "I'll be back, Teagan. I'm going to find Nimh," she said softly. She wished she could take some of his pain away, it hurt to see him so stricken. It felt awkward but she hugged him quickly.

He still seemed insensible to her presence, he was so consumed with his grief.

"I'm so sorry," she told him and left. She went to her room. She got her bow, a quiver full of arrows and a thick cloak. She went to the stable and saddled Osgar again. He had had a fairly good rest and he was the strongest horse here. She thought about it and decided to take Rosheen too, she could tether Rosheen to Osgar and have another horse if Osgar got too tired. She took a few additional things from the stables, a blanket, some rope and a few torches. She lit one now.

She left the horses for a moment and went to the back door, she looked for foot prints. There were some fresh ones, in the soft dirt, they seemed to lead to the front gate. The gate had been open when they had come back from the village. It was still open. She got the horses and walked out to the gate. There were two guards.

"Did you see a woman come through here, from the castle?" she described Nimh's appearance.

The guards nodded. "Yes, twenty minutes ago or so. She seemed in a big hurry."

Sorcha thanked them. She mounted Osgar and they cantered off. When they got to the end of bridge she queried a few more guards and learned that the woman had met up with a man who had a horse for her. The pair had gone off in a hurry down the Imperial highway towards Denerim.

Sorcha thanked him. "Please get the word to Bann Teagan that I am looking for Nimh. I am going to try to track her down. I am heading towards Denerim." She hoped he got the word back to the castle and someone would catch up to her before she found the pair.

She rode fast now, really pushing Osgar. She had a big gap to close, she just wasn't sure what she would do once she closed it.

* * *

Teagan finally pulled away from Eamon. _My brother is gone. _He felt numb. He had to tell Isolde. He went to her room and knocked on her door.

"Teagan!" she said. She hugged him. "I was so worried about you when you didn't come to dinner." She hugged him again. "Are you all right? Where were you?"

Teagan couldn't make sense of her behavior, he pried her off him. "Isolde," he gripped her shoulders, "Eamon is dead." He leaned against the frame of her door, feeling weak after saying the words.

Isolde covered her mouth with her hand. _So it is done? _

"Dead? No Teagan. He is fine, I saw him at dinner tonight." She began to tremble with fear and relief. _It is over. I am free. _She stumbled over to a chair in her room and sat heavily. She covered her face with her hands hoping that tears would come.

"I'm sorry, Isolde," Teagan told her

"How?" she asked. She shook with fear, dreading to hear him say _poison._

"I don't know, Isolde. He died in his chair next to the fire. Sorcha and I got home and we saw..." he broke off, remembering now why they went into the study in the first place. Suddenly his awareness crashed back into him. He heard now what Sorcha had said, _I'm going to find Nimh. _The glass rolling across the rug. The woman sneaking out the back door with her bag.

He staggered with the realization of what Sorcha must have pieced together. _If Nimh did this... Sorcha went after her alone._

"I have to go, Isolde."

"Teagan! Why are you leaving? No, Teagan, I need you here with me. I can't..." she sobbed, tears coming now, finally.

Teagan turned away from her and hurried towards the stable. The Captain of the guard found him. "My lord, one of the guards tells me a girl had a message for you."

"What is it?" he asked.

"She told him to tell you that she is following Nimh and her companion. She headed east on the Imperial highway towards Denerim. The girl had two horses from your stable with her."

Teagan nodded. "Have three of your best riders get fast horses and join me at the front gate immediately." He ran down to the stables himself. He took a bow and a dagger, but no armor, he didn't want it slowing him down.

* * *

_**Note**__: I'm sorry I killed Eamon! Isolde left me no choice, she threatened to wear a dress identical to my own at court if I didn't agree!_


	7. Chapter 7

Nimh and Dann pulled off the Imperial Highway two hours out of Redcliffe. They hid the horses in a stand of trees and made a camp not far from the road. They did not make a fire or set up tents. They would take turns keeping watch, to see if they were followed. The night was fairly dark and the grass was high. They could listen for horses and plan accordingly.

Not long after they got set up they heard someone coming fast down the Highway. Nimh and Dann both went flat to their bellies. They crawled up to the edge of the road and parted the grass to look out. A person on horseback was coming, the pair both held still and watched. A woman, two horses. Nimh could make out something familiar, that mass of bushy hair looked familiar.

"Dann, she's from the castle," Nimh hissed after she went past.

"Alone?" Dann asked. _If she was after them, why was she alone?_ "Who is she?"

Nimh thought a moment, "The lady's maid."

Dann screwed up his forehead trying to figure out why a lady's maid would be following them on horseback alone. It made no sense.

No one followed behind her.

"She may have seen me talking to the lady," Nimh said.

Dann shrugged. "Does it matter? We've been paid."

"Yes it matters, she knows me. We need to find out what is going on."

Dann sighed, _so much for camping. _"All right, get the horses, I'll pack all this up again."

Osgar was sweating and his sides were heaving. She had to stop. _Why haven't I caught up to them yet? _She switched the saddle over to Rosheen. _Poor Osgar needs water. _She could hear a stream off in the distance. She lead the horses over to it. They both drank thirstily. She bent over to drink too. The night must be half over she thought. She had been riding three or four hours now.

_What in Maker's name am I doing? _She thought she had well and truly lost her mind. Maybe the people she was following had turned off somewhere and she had ridden past them. _What should I do? _She considered turning back but she thought of Eamon and even worse how Teagan had cried for him. It tore at her heart. To lose someone you know so well, someone you love, like those two brothers loved each other. In her exhausted state, she cried for them both. _Stop it. Just stop it. Figure out what to do. _She splashed cold water on her face. She couldn't think of anything better to do, so she mounted Rosheen and they continued on, but much slower.

They clopped down the road, Rosheen was just walking now. Sorcha was asleep, bent forward, her head on Rosheen's mane, her arms dangling beside her neck, somehow she managed to keep her seat. Then Rosheen stopped and the lack of movement woke her. She couldn't go further and neither could the horses. _How long have I been riding? _She had lost track. She guided them off the road to a copse where she tied up the horses and took the saddle and bit off of Rosheen. She sat down, meaning to rest just a little while, with her back against a tree trunk and her eyes shut and she fell deeply asleep.

_The forest light was dim as she waited for the stag to come down the path. Here and there it broke through the foliage and dappled the ground. Where was her bow? How could she kill the stag without it? She heard its hooves striking the path and it came into view, stopping just ahead of her. It looked at her with eyes that seemed almost human. They were warm, brown eyes_. _The stag came closer, his muzzle moved to her neck. He nuzzled her, she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She stroked his soft coat, he was so gentle and tame._ _She looked into his eyes again and realized it wasn't a stag, it was Teagan. His arms wrapped around her and his breath tickled her neck. _

She awoke with a scream as a booted foot kicked her ribs. A man stood over her grinning. "Good morning, Miss. Rise and shine!"

She tried to scramble to her feet but she found she was tied to the tree she had leaned against. The sun was low in the sky, it must just be past dawn. _Maker, why did I sleep so soundly?_

Nimh came into view. She was looking at her with something sadistic in her face. "Fancy meeting you out here. Sorcha isn't it?" she said. She had a dagger in her hand that she was playing with. "Were you following us?"

"No," Sorcha said. _Think of an excuse! Quickly!_

"Then perhaps you'd like to tell us why you were going in the same direction as us at approximately the same time?" the man said.

"I was running away," Sorcha said.

"Um hm," said Nimh, "and _why_ were you running away?"

"Because I hated it there! Isolde was cruel to me. I wanted to go home." At least she wasn't lying entirely.

Nimh shook her head, "I'm not buying it Dann, are you?"

Dann frowned and shook his head. "Naw, I think she was following us."

Nimh smiled sweetly at Sorcha, "I guess we'll have to work a little harder to get the truth."

Dann smiled. "Oh good, I like this part. Especially with a pretty one like this." He squatted down and put his hand under her chin turning her to look him directly in the face. "Now, would you like to talk first? Then I promise I'll be gentle with you. Otherwise... well, Delicate Dann tends to forget how to treat a lady."

Sorcha cringed, trying to yank her face away. Dann laughed at her and kissed her, mashing his mouth to hers. He bit her lip savagely and she cried out in pain.

He laughed. "Okay, the time to talk is now, Miss."

"Okay! I'll talk," Sorcha said, "I murdered Isolde. I had to flee before they found her body."

Dan laughed. "What do you think, Nimh? It would be kind of funny if it were true."

"Yeah, right," she looked at the girl, "you're a real cold blood killer, are ya?" She laughed. "So how did you do it?"

"I cut her throat and left her bleeding," she said.

"Hm, and not a drop on you. Pretty neatly done." Nimh shook her head. "She's lying." She handed the dagger to Dann.

"Nimh, you might want to go somewhere else. I know you don't like to watch," Dann said.

"I changed clothes!" Sorcha said.

"Oh this gets better and better. You leave the lady bleeding somewhere and take the time to change your clothes?" Nimh tipped back her head and laughed. She walked off, leaving Dann alone with Sorcha.

Dann played with the dagger, testing its sharpness. He put the tip of it against her throat and very lightly traced a path down, not enough to actually cut her. He stopped when he reached the top of her shirt. He watched the panic rising in her eyes. _A virgin? Even more fun._ He used the knife to cut a button off her shirt. He paused to look at her, cocking his head as if waiting for her to speak. He shrugged and cut off another button. He gave her an opportunity to speak after each one.

"Got nothing for me, sweetheart?" He kissed her again, his hand parted her buttonless shirt and grasped her breast. His big fingers squeezed it gently, then pinched the nipple viciously. She gasped and shrank away from him.

"I'm not lying!" she protested.

Dann frowned at her. "I have a sense for when women are lying to me. And when they're lying underneath me too." He laughed at his joke. "Maker, I crack me up." He brightened. "This is your first time isn't it?"

Sorcha nodded.

"See, I can tell you're not lying now," Dann smiled. "Aw, so sad it has to be like this." He grinned then slapped her viciously.

She shut her eyes and tried to think of something else. _A forest. Leaves, sun shining. The smells of bark and decay._ The teeth biting her nipples brought forth a small shriek despite her attempt to make her mind go elsewhere.

Dann could see what she was doing. She was trying to escape into her mind. He wasn't going to let her. He cut the bonds that tied her hands together behind the tree. He lifted her up by the hair and forced her to walk to where her cloak lay on the ground then he shoved her roughly and she fell. He started to unlace his breeches. She looked around, Rosheen was nearby. She had to at least try. She got to her feet quickly while he was fumbling with his laces and ran to Rosheen. She wasn't saddled but Rosheen knew her, she would obey. She leapt on her back and grabbed her mane and kicked her to a gallop. "Go girl!" she urged her.

Dann and Nimh were yelling behind her. She felt a sudden impact in her right arm and it nearly knocked her from the saddle. Then the pain. An arrow had hit her. She crouched lower on Rosheen and clung to her, heading back towards Redcliffe. She could feel the warmth of her own blood soaking into her shirt, which flapped open in the wind. She looked back and saw the pair running for their own mounts.

She grasped Rosheen's mane fiercely and rode. The loss of blood was starting to make her dizzy and cold. Her right arm was going numb. "Go Rosheen!" The horse pounded down the road. They wouldn't catch her if she could just hang on and if Rosheen could keep it up. She prayed to the Maker they could do it.

* * *

Teagan took a cue from Sorcha and took two horses. He waited for the guards at the gate impatiently. They finally arrived and he gave them their orders. They were to ride as fast as possible towards Denerim. Rest and water the horses when they had to, but keep going all night if necessary. He was going to ride ahead and switch horses when he exhausted one. He rode hard for hours and saw no sign of her. He stopped to water his horse, coincidentally very close to where Sorcha had stopped. He saw muddy hoof prints and found it encouraging.

He pressed on riding for several hours more. The guards were well behind him, they only had one horse apiece, they had to go a lot slower. He started getting very tired but he pressed on. He had plenty of time to think. _Was Eamon murdered? If so who would kill Eamon? _Teagan couldn't think of any political enemies that would be so motivated, at least not since Dulan died and the Queen had been declawed. Maybe Sorcha knew something more.

_Sorcha_. He had felt a panic rising when he realized what she had done and why. He didn't know if he should be angry with her or grateful. She had put things together and tried to tell him. He hoped she was all right. He couldn't bear to think of what could happen to her out here alone. Even if she didn't catch up to those possible murderers, there were always bandits and other rough folk on these roads.

He thought of her that day in the forest. She had looked like a dryad, some feminine embodiment of the spirit of the woods. He could visualize that as a painting. The spirit of the forest taking the life of a magnificent stag. It was the first time he had thought of painting since...

His horses were so exhausted he was going to have to stop. He found them water again and let them rest until the sun came up. He splashed his own face with water trying to stay awake. He stayed right next to the road so he could see anyone that came by. When they had had some time to recover he mounted again and they went on, just at a walk, that was all the horses could manage.

He didn't go far before heard the sound of hooves. He got his bow and nocked an arrow. The horse was coming fast. At first he thought there was no rider but then he saw one bent low, clinging to the horses mane, red hair streaming behind her.

"Sorcha!" he yelled, as she galloped past on Rosheen. He saw her turn her face to look at him, she looked horribly pale. He was about to wheel his horse around to chase after her but he heard more hooves coming and saw two more horses in the distance. His horses could never catch up to her. He looked around for cover and found a boulder. He set up for a shot at the approaching riders.

_Andraste, guide my arrow_, he prayed, not that he was the praying sort but this seemed like a good time to start.

A man and a woman rode into view. The man was closest to him. The woman looked like Nimh. Sorcha must have been right about her. He let loose his arrow and hit the man in the shoulder. He grunted and fell off his horse. The woman dismounted and grabbed a sword off her horse.

"Dann! Get your butt up and help me here," Nimh shouted.

The man cursed and yelled as he drew the arrow out of his shoulder. Teagan saw a gratifying amount of blood.

Nimh ran at Teagan. He parried her attack. She slashed at him again. She was good. Teagan knew he was only a mediocre swordsman at best. He held his own against her though. He was also exhausted from an entire night of riding, although she looked weary too.

Dann recovered from pulling the arrow out and grabbed his own sword.

_Shit! _Teagan knew he couldn't defend himself from two people, even if one was heavily injured. He backed up trying to increase the distance between himself and the man.

Then he heard hooves again. He saw Sorcha coming back, she was sitting up this time, her shirt flapping behind her. She looked as pale as a ghost but she clung to her horses mane with one hand, in the other hand she held... an arrow? She rode directly at the man yelling and she stabbed at him in the neck. He reacted too slowly and she plunged it into the side of his neck. He grabbed his neck in response and she kicked him viciously. He fell. She rode past, her horse slowing. Teagan saw her weaving and finally she fell off the horse.

He nearly missed parrying an attack from Nimh. She hadn't been distracted by the things going on behind her. She attacked again and this time sliced into his leg. He fell back, trying to put some distance between them. She nearly lost her footing on a stone that she caught with her toe. He attacked and he cut her on her wrist. It was just a matter of time before one of them made a fatal error, he hoped it wasn't him. They fought and he kept giving up ground hoping to find some advantage.

He took another step back and his foot caught on something and he fell backwards. Nimh grinned at him, readying herself to plunge her sword straight down into his chest. He watched her grin fade as an arrow suddenly sprouted out of her sword arm. Teagan rolled away as she dropped her sword. He looked, Sorcha was standing, barely, holding a bow. Teagan grabbed the woman's sword and slammed it against her head, hoping to knock her out without killing her. She fell to the ground unconscious.

He ran to Sorcha and caught her just as she was falling. He looked at her shirt, there were no buttons on it. _Oh Maker, are those bite marks? _He felt sick and pulled her shirt closed. Her skin was so cold to his touch. She was freezing. He looked at the wound in her arm. It was bleeding and had been for awhile judging by how cold she was and how pale. Her shirt sleeve was sodden with her blood. Somehow she had pulled the arrow out to use as a weapon. _Maker, how did she do that?_

He sat down with her, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her. Then he wrapped his cloak around them both and hoped his body heat could warm her. He tucked her head against his chest. She stirred weakly against him.

"Teagan," she said, "I..."

"Shush," he told her. "Don't talk. Save your strength."

They remained like that for what seemed like a long time. Finally he heard hooves again, this time coming slowly. He looked up and saw the three guards coming. He ordered one to secure Nimh, who still lived. He had them make a fire and boil some water. They moved her next to the fire and wrapped her in blankets. He poured the hot water into a cup and woke her, making her take some sips. Then he cleaned out her arrow wound. It was bad. It definitely needed the attention of a healer. He bound it with bandages. The guards and horses were too exhausted to send off anywhere. So was he for that matter. They set up short watches so everyone could get some rest. He laid down next to Sorcha to give her more warmth. Before he fell asleep he whispered to her.

"Don't leave me, Sorcha. Be strong. Please, be strong." He kissed her pale face and prayed once again. Then he fell asleep next to her.

When he awoke it was around noon and he was perspiring. He looked at Sorcha. Her skin color looked better and she felt warm again. He smoothed her hair back from her face and her eyes opened halfway.

Teagan smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty," she croaked.

He got her some water, sat her up, propping her against him and she drank. She leaned back against him and sighed.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked.

She nodded weakly.

"I'm going to change your bandage." He unwrapped the dressing on her wound. It was beginning to look infected. The skin around it was getting hot. They couldn't afford to wait. She had to get to a healer.

It was a little further to the Circle Tower than Redcliffe, still he knew there would be healers at the Circle Tower, it was the safest bet. It might take them two days to get there if they pushed, although not as hard as they did last night. He roused the sleeping guards and had them pack everything up. He put Sorcha in front of him on his horse, wrapping her up in a cloak. They set out slowly for the Circle Tower. They couldn't go any faster than a walk, it was too painful for her and he wasn't sure he could hold onto her at a faster speed.

When they stopped for the night a couple guards shot some rabbits and brought them back for dinner. Sorcha was feverish now. She wouldn't eat anything but she drank a lot of water. Teagan woke up in the night, she was thrashing in her sleep, raving. He touched her forehead, she was burning up. He picked her up and walked with her down to the shoreline of the lake. He walked into the water with her. It was so cold. He got her body under the water and splashed some on her face and into her hair. Then he returned to the camp. They were both dripping wet but she had stopped raving and she seemed cooler. He dried her off and put a blanket over her. She rested easily after that.

He sat by the fire trying to get warm again. He prayed yet again. _Maker, let her live. _He was so overwhelmed by emotion and exhaustion he felt tears stinging at his eyes. _Too much loss. _He fell asleep next to the fire.

The next day was a repeat of the first. She was looking worse though. She was never conscious during the day at all. _Be strong. _He whispered it to her over and over.

Finally they reached the dock of Lake Calenhad and he ferried over to the Circle Tower with her. The guards stayed behind at the Inn. Teagan carried the unconscious girl into the Tower. She was taken from him immediately. He staggered and nearly fell, he was so exhausted himself. One of the mages noticed his wound and poor condition. They put him in a guest room and tended to the cut on his leg. Afterward Teagan fell into a deep sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Isolde had no idea why Teagan left. Why would he just leave her, right after his brother died?

That night the captain of the guard came to speak to her and she knew why he had gone. It was after _her. _She had left for some reason, she did not know why. Was it connected to Eamon's... death? She chewed on a nail, ruining months of manicuring and polishing. _What if Teagan figures out Eamon was poisoned? They will suspect a political motive, not me. _She thought about everything since her trip to Denerim, reviewing everything she said and did. _Did I make any mistakes? _Then she gasped when she remembered her conversation with Nimh and how Sorcha had seen her so distraught. _What if Sorcha suspects?_

On the second day Isolde stayed to her rooms like a grieving widow might. Eamon's body was being attended to, a pyre built. _Where is Teagan? _She postponed the pyre lighting until Teagan returned.

On the third day she spoke to the captain and he sent a search party to look for them.

On the fourth and fifth day she planned. _Sorcha will have to go, of course. Teagan... _a small smile crossed her lips. She walked over to her dresser and opened the box with the candle. _Too soon? _she wondered.

On the sixth day she began to feel desperate. No word from Teagan, the guards or even the girl. _Perhaps they all died? _

On the evening of the seventh day a boat docked in the harbor at Redcliffe.

* * *

When Teagan awoke it was well into the next day. He washed up quickly and went in search of Sorcha. A senior mage took him to her.

"She was near death, my lord," the mage said, "the infection had spread." She decided to spare him the details of how they had argued over removing the infected arm. "But she is young and strong and our healers are talented. She is recovering."

"Thank the Maker," Teagan said. "When can she travel?"

"She should rest for a day or two. In addition to being so sick she is exhausted, dehydrated and has not eaten in days."

Teagan nodded, "Thank you for what you've done."

The senior mage left him at the door to her room. He went in quietly and sat at the side of her bed. She looked like they must have bathed her and washed her hair. It lay on her pillow in tight curls, fiery russet against bleached linen. He reached out to touch the curls, they were so soft. He had a sudden urge to plunge both of his hands in that soft, red torrent of hair that poured over her pillow. He looked away for a moment to tame his imagination.

She stretched and yawned and her dark eyes opened. "Teagan," she said softly. "Where are we?"

"The Circle Tower," he told her. His heart lifted to see her looking well and talking.

She looked puzzled. "We are? I don't remember anything much after..." she inhaled sharply as things started flooding back to her.

He looked at her with concern. "What happened, Sorcha?" He picked up her hand and held it.

"They found me asleep. I was so stupid. I sat down and I was just going to rest for a moment. I fell asleep and they found me." She looked distraught. "When I woke up my hands were tied and they were going to torture me. He was going to..." she couldn't say it.

Teagan closed his eyes against the emotions that unfinished sentence stirred in him. He helped her to sit up. He left one of his arms behind her. "You got away, though."

She nodded. "I jumped on Rosheen and rode away. They shot me. Somehow I managed to stay on, and she kept running." She thought for a minute. "It gets fuzzy after that."

He squeezed her shoulders. "Do you remember seeing me?"

She thought for a minute, "A little. It was like a dream."

"Pulling the arrow out of your arm and stabbing that man with it?" Teagan asked.

"What?" she asked, "Are you serious?"

Teagan nodded. "Shooting Nimh in the arm? Do you remember that?"

She wrinkled her forehead. "Now you're just making stuff up."

Teagan looked at her. He shook his head. "Maker strike me dead if I'm lying."

She shook her head, "I don't remember any of that."

She was silent a moment. "Teagan, I'm sorry about Eamon."

He rubbed his forehead. He hadn't thought about it much since he had started out after Sorcha and now that was coming back to him.

She rubbed his arm in sympathy, not knowing what to say.

"Did you find out anything from Nimh?" she asked.

Teagan shook his head. "No, not yet. I haven't really had a chance to deal with her. Did you learn anything when they were talking to you?"

She shook her head, "Not really they just wanted to know why I was following them. They didn't believe the stories I made up." She frowned, "I don't think she was a real servant."

Teagan laughed, "That's an understatement! She was rather good with a sword. She was about to skewer me when you shot her."

Sorcha's brow furrowed, "Are you sure you aren't making this up to make me feel better?"

He chuckled at her and shook his head. "Maybe your memory will return." He paused for a moment, not wanting to leave her side. "I'm going to get some food for us." He wanted to kiss her, on the cheek or forehead, but it seemed too forward now that she was conscious. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and left her sitting up in bed.

* * *

He hired a boat and it took them to Redcliffe. The journey only took a day. Sorcha enjoyed the trip and being out in the air again. The Tower had been so stuffy. She wondered how those mages could stand to stay there their entire lives. Teagan on the other hand felt sick almost as soon as he stepped on the boat. He was in misery the entire day. Sorcha went below deck to see him but he sent her away. He didn't want her to see him retching into a bucket. Two of the guards would return to Redcliffe with their horses and one guard would come with them, escorting their prisoner.

When they arrived, the castle seemed empty to Teagan. It wasn't, of course. It was busier than normal really as people were arriving to pay their condolences to Isolde, and staying for the funeral. It was teeming with servants and soldiers. There was just one person missing, Eamon. But his passing felt bigger to him than just one man dying, it made the castle feel empty. The sadness he had been distracted from for most of the week descended on him again.

Sorcha touched Teagan's arm and he looked at her. She felt his pain at returning home. She held his eyes for a few moments then she went to her room, saying nothing. _What could I possibly say or do to make it better? Nothing. _

She was afraid of what Isolde would do when she found out why they had been missing. She turned over the whole week in her head, trying to make sense of it all. The one image she kept coming back to was of Nimh and Isolde that day when they had spoken, the day Eamon had died. _Isolde had been upset and nearly slapped her. Nimh had looked threatening. _

She changed clothes. Dinner wouldn't be ready for a few hours but she was hungry again. She went down to the kitchen to find something to eat. She found a bowl filled with shelled nuts and she stole a handful of them and popped them discretely into her mouth. She tried to stay out of the way and looked for something else to eat. She overheard an interesting conversation.

"...the Arlessa specifically asked Angus to hire the woman, said she was in need of a job since her mother had moved to Redcliffe. She said she was a delightful woman, she was, and she felt sorry for 'er," the servant speaking laughed. "Delightful as a mad badger, I think. She was always giving us the evil eye and never did a lick of work. Then she ups and leaves without a word to anyone?"

Sorcha nearly choked on a nut. _The Arlessa was responsible for her being hired? _She suddenly lost her appetite.

* * *

Teagan went to see Isolde after they arrived. He knocked at her door and waited until a servant opened it. She was writing a letter when she went in. She put it away and stood to greet him.

"Teagan! Where did you go?" she asked him. She hugged him tightly. "I was so worried about you."

He patted her on the back. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly." He paused. "May I come in and speak to you in private?"

"Of course, Teagan," she said. She shooed away her servant and offered him a seat on the divan. He sat down, and she sat right next to him.

_Grief is making her a little clingy, _he thought. He took her hand, the news he had for her would be difficult. "Isolde, Eamon did not die of natural causes."

Isolde sucked in her breath, her eyes grew wide. "No, Teagan! I don't believe it. Wh... Why would anyone wish to harm him?" She squeezed his hand in her alarm.

"We believe that the servant, Nimh, may have poisoned him." Teagan patted her hand. "We saw her sneaking out of the castle just before we found Eamon."

Isolde stood and faced the fire, her back to Teagan. She didn't want him to see her expression. "We?" She already knew the answer.

"Sorcha and I came in a little late that evening, I was going to tell you why we were delayed, not that it's important now. But we saw the new servant sneaking out the back door." He paused a moment remembering what came next. "We went to see Eamon in his study and found him." He rubbed his forehead. "I was too grief-stricken to understand but Sorcha realized that Nimh might have had a hand in his death."

He decided against telling her all the details, she didn't need to know that Sorcha had acted alone. She certainly would not approve.

He continued, "So we rode out after her, just wanted to question her and find out what she knew. Sorcha was injured and we ended up going to the Circle Tower to get help for her."

Isolde began trembling. She could barely speak, "Did you find Nimh?" Her hand rubbed her throat nervously.

"Yes, we caught her. She had an accomplice that we killed. Well, Sorcha did."

"Sorcha!" Isolde spat viperously. Her outburst surprised Teagan. "Her behavior is deplorable. I am sending her back to her father immediately. She is hopeless Teagan. I cannot teach her the manners and refinement her father wanted when she runs off hunting and murdering people." _It figured that she would be involved in this. Everywhere I look Sorcha is blundering into things that do not concern her, especially where Teagan is concerned. _

"Isolde! You can't punish her for that. She was instrumental in catching Nimh."

Isolde turned around, her eyes flashing. "I won't have her here another day. She leaves tomorrow!"

Teagan stood and put his hands on her shoulders. "Isolde, no. She cared for Eamon. So much so that she risked her life to bring his murderer to justice. She will stay, at least for the funeral. If you don't wish to have her as a lady-in-waiting, that is fine. She will be a guest here until she wishes to leave, if she wishes to leave."

Isolde drew back, "I do not want her here, Teagan! She has brought nothing but trouble to this place. Get rid of her!" She was nearly shrieking at him.

Teagan stared at her in disbelief. "You forget yourself, Isolde. I am Eamon's heir and I think you understand what that means. If I say that Sorcha stays as a guest, then she stays as a guest. There will be no more discussion about it."

Isolde felt everything was shattering around her. Nimh had been caught. Teagan was defending Sorcha, just as Eamon had. She would not lose him to that _salope_! She collected herself.

"Teagan, I am so sorry." She hugged him again, wrapping her arms around him. "I am just so distraught over losing Eamon, sometimes I don't think clearly." She pressed her cheek against his chest. "Please forgive me my outburst."

Teagan felt oppressed by her clingy behavior. He wondered if she had lost her mind. "It's all right, Isolde."

"Sorcha can continue to be my lady-in-waiting," she offered contritely.

Teagan sat down so that Isolde would have to let go of him. "No, Isolde. I think it would be best if you find someone else. I don't think she is really cut out for that position. It just makes you both miserable."

Isolde sighed, now regretting her outburst. If Sorcha was still her lady she would have at least a little control over her. "Very well, Teagan, if you think that is best."

"So, back to the subject of Eamon's death," Teagan said. He wondered how they had gotten so sidetracked onto Sorcha. "We have his murderer and we'll question her after his funeral. But do you know of anyone that would want Eamon dead?"

She shook her head. "He was concerned about the Queen and Dulan but since she married Fergus he was no longer worried about her."

Teagan had been involved in that. "I don't think the Queen was involved either. She seems to have moved on from that."

Isolde shrugged. "I do not know then. Maybe one of his vassals bears a grudge?"

"Perhaps," he said. "Well, I will not keep you any longer Isolde. I'm sorry to bring you this news." Teagan gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze and left.

Isolde sat back down at her desk and gnawed on her fingernail again. _They have Nimh! _She knew it was only a matter of time before they found out who hired her. She thought about it for a few minutes and decided she would have to take matters into her own hands to shut the woman up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: **_I appreciate all your reviews. It's nice to know if I'm connecting with anyone out there or not. Any feedback is appreciated hugely! Even if you hate me for killing off or debasing characters you are fond of. :)_

Dinner was awkward that night. Teagan felt, along with his grief over his brother's death, unease about Isolde. He thought she might be becoming unhinged. Then Sorcha was acting oddly too. She was always rather quiet, especially when Isolde was present, tonight she was even more so. Although he could guess why, she feared Isolde's temper at her long, unexplained absence. He caught her looking at Isolde every now and then when Isolde wasn't watching. There was some indefinable emotion in her eyes. She barely ate and excused herself at the earliest opportunity.

He found he was curious about what lay behind her stony silence tonight. He wanted to talk to her. He also needed to let her know about her status change at Redcliffe castle. Excuses aside, he also just wanted to be with her. Even though she had not been aware of it, he had been so close to her for the better part of a week. Holding her in his arms on the trip to Redcliffe, sleeping next to her to keep her warm, bathing her when her fever was raging. Caring for her had been a reprieve from everything else. He did not want that to end.

He left the table after she did and went to the library. He would have gone to the study but the memories of this belonging to his brother made it seem inappropriate. He sent a servant to bring her to him. It would have been inappropriate for him to go to her room himself.

She came to the library a few minutes later and her expression softened with a slight smile. Teagan asked the servant to leave and shut the door. He gestured her to a chair and poured them both a glass of brandy.

"Don't worry, it's from a fresh cask. I saw it opened myself." He raised his glass and drank a sip.

She took a swallow and coughed. She was unused to such strong alcohol.

"Careful, Sorcha! I didn't carry you all the way to the Mage Tower to lose you from choking on your drink!" He chuckled.

"Carried?" she asked. "You had to carry me that entire way?"

"On horseback, yes. You don't remember any of that?"

She shook her head. "I am so sorry I was such a burden." She was embarrassed.

He reached over and took her hand. "You were never a burden." He smiled at her, hoping he could lighten her mood just a little. "How is your wound healing?"

She reached over unconsciously to her upper arm where the arrow had hit her. "It is healing very well. The mages seemed to get the entire infection and the skin has closed."

"Will you let me see?" he asked her.

She blushed and nodded. She slid her dress down over her shoulder far enough to show him the wound. He picked up a lamp and brought it near so he could inspect it. He knelt down beside her to have a look. It was as she said, healing nicely. The skin was very red and puckered, there would be a large scar but otherwise it looked good. He touched it gently. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No," she shivered involuntarily when he touched her.

He slid her dress back up to her shoulder again. Her eyes wouldn't meet his. He took his hand off her shoulder reluctantly. She reminded him of a chipmunk he had tried to tame when he was a boy. It would slowly edge closer to his hand and eventually take a nut from him, flick its tail and run away somewhere safe to eat it. Any sudden movement would send it scurrying away and he had to start over.

He settled himself back in his chair. "I also wanted to tell you that you should consider yourself a guest here for as long as you like. I spoke with Isolde and she agreed to release you from your duties."

Sorcha looked at him, her eyes were troubled. _This is not going to please father, _she thought. "I'll have to tell my father, I'm sure he'll not want to inconvenience you."

Teagan frowned. "Sorcha, I don't want you to leave."

She bit her lip, unsure what to say so she said nothing.

"Couldn't you just not tell your father," he asked.

A suggestion of a smile came to her mouth, "I suppose I could forget to mention it."

"Good," Teagan picked her hand up again. "I need someone to hunt and ride with."

She finally gave him the smile he had been wanting to see. It dissolved soon as she remembered what she had overheard in the kitchen.

"My lord," she began.

"Teagan," he reminded her.

"Teagan", she hesitated unsure how to break this news. "I overheard something in the kitchen."

"Go on, Sorcha. You can tell me anything." He smiled at her reassuringly.

Sorcha wasn't so certain this would be such welcome news. "Some servants said that Nimh only got her position here because the Arlessa asked that she be hired." She fidgeted. "I'm sure it's just idle gossip."

Teagan sat silently a moment. "Thank you for telling me, Sorcha." This was something he hadn't considered. Could Isolde have hired someone to kill Eamon? That sounded absurd to him. Eamon had loved her dearly, would do anything for her and he thought she felt the same way. "We will get to the bottom of this. I plan to have Nimh questioned the day after the funeral."

He offered her more brandy but she stood up. "I should go to bed. Thank you for everything, Teagan. Especially for saving my life."

She was running away again, just like his wild chipmunk.

"Wait," he said, "I just want you to remember it was you that saved my life too." He decided to risk it. He embraced her. "I owe you more than I can say, Sorcha." He let go of her and she left him.

_You saved my life twice now, _he thought remembering how she had cared for him when he recovering from his opium addiction and obsession with Wisteria. _Wisteria... how is it possible I haven't even thought of her in well over a week?_

_

* * *

_

Isolde had a sleeping remedy she used on occasion. Those wealthy enough to afford it slept well at night. A few drops of its bitter nectar on the tongue brought a lovely deep sleep. More than that and... well, she remembered Lady Winters, who stopped breathing in the night after taking too much. So now a few drops in a tankard of bitter stout for the guard should do the trick. She brought the grateful man the ale and went back upstairs to wait. Twenty minutes later he was sound asleep. Sleep was not quite good enough tonight. She squeezed a few more drops into his open mouth and watched as his breathing grew slower and his skin went pale from lack of oxygen.

She took the keys from the guard and found Nimh's cell.

"Lady," Nimh whispered, "you gotta get me out of here. I never was any good at standing up to torture."

Isolde nodded. "Don't worry, I have a way to get you out." She unlocked the cell door and gestured with her hand that she should precede her. Her hand fumbled for a moment with the bottom of her bodice.

Nimh turned away and took a step. She felt a dagger sliding into her side. _Funny, I never figured she could do that, _Nimh thought as the dagger struck her again. She sank slowly to the straw covered floor, her life leaking out from the holes left by poorly aimed thrusts. She reached out with a blood covered hand and grasped at Isolde's gown. She clutched for a few moments and then her hand slid down. It left a bloody path against the pale fabric.

As the woman fell and did not move Isolde felt oddly still inside. Her panic contemplating this fled with the actual doing. She looked at the stain on her dress, _that will never come out_, she thought. Fortunately the dress was not a favorite.

She went to the guard, who still lived, barely. He was limp in his chair. She struggled trying to move him and finally figure out she could heft his legs under her arms and pull, using her body weight. He fell heavily out of the chair and she dragged his body down the hallway, next to Nimh's corpse. She took the guard's sword and tried to figure out how to hold it properly. She settled on grasping the hilt with both hands and plunging it into his belly. Next she put the sword into Nimh's hand. She wiped off the dagger on Nimh's dress and stuck it back up her bodice.

An onion has a series of layers, thin and delicate as ancient vellum; when peeled away the true nature of the root is revealed. Isolde Guerrin had layers too and tonight they had all been removed. This time there were no mistakes. She put on the cloak she had put aside on the stair railing, safely out of danger of splashing blood; it hid her murder painted dress. She went back to her room to wash, get rid of a dagger, and burn her dress in the fireplace.

_Why didn't I just do this myself the first time, _she wondered. _It isn't that difficult._

_

* * *

_

Sorcha undressed thoughtfully. Her conversation with Teagan had left her feeling strange. She touched her arm where he had touched her. It didn't feel the same. She knew she was what her mother described as a "late bloomer", she really hadn't been interested in boys except in joining in their games. Romance stories bored her. She didn't seem to have much in common with her own gender. Her father sending her away to be a lady to the Arlessa had probably been an act of desperation. She was nearing twenty summers and she had never felt any of the desires she assumed she was supposed to be feeling, judging by the way other girls swooned all over handsome, unmarried men. Ignorance was bliss, as far as she was concerned.

Only what was that tonight when he had touched her? She didn't really know how to classify that feeling. And why was she thinking of him so much of the time? It could be that he was the closest thing she had to a friend here. In fact, she was sure that was it. As near as she could tell giggling and swooning were the signs that one was in love, and she had no urge to do either. In fact, she often felt like escaping when he was near. Something about him made her uneasy, but at the same time he put her at ease. _Argh! I am making no sense, _she thought.

She resolved try to read a romance story, maybe that would shed some light on things. She looked around her room and found one that looked promising, _"The Rose of Orlais". _She put her shift on and put a lamp on the table near her bed so she could read. She opened the book and read until late in the night. The book filled in a lot of gaps in knowledge and stirred up feelings she had no idea she possessed but now she could give them names. She finally fell asleep with the book falling on her face.


	10. Chapter 10

_She came to him in his dreams that night. Her hair flowing around her shoulders like a turbulent river of red waves. Her shirt was open like when he had found her on the Imperial Highway. Only this time she was not gravely wounded but whole and perfect. There were no brutal bite marks on her breasts. She met his eyes directly, her hesitation and shyness were gone. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He knew then that she did not know how to kiss. He would show her. He placed his lips softly on hers. He probed her lips gently with his tongue and his teeth pulled on her lower lip. She relaxed her mouth beneath his and sighed. His mouth found her neck and explored this sensitive area. She made little sounds in her throat and her hands traveled to weave behind his neck and head. He knew he was awakening her to feelings she had never experienced. His tongue traced the shell-like outline of her ear..._

"My lord!", there was a banging on his chamber door. He woke abruptly from the dream feeling like he had just been dropped into a snow bank. He had allow a moment to settle himself before answering the door. The captain of the guard was there.

"What is it?" he asked the captain.

"You should come see for yourself," the captain said.

Teagan grabbed a dressing gown and wrapped it around himself and followed the captain to the basement. He gasped at the bloody sight before him. The prisoner and a guard lay dead.

"What happened here?" Teagan asked.

"My lord, it seems as though the prisoner tried to escape and she and the guard killed one another during the attempt." He bent over the corpses, trying to read whatever he could from the bodies.

Teagan shook his head, sighing. "So much for questioning her." He stared at the scene for a moment and shrugged. "See that the guard's family is notified and make sure he gets an honorable funeral." He nudged the woman's body with a toe. "Leave her in a field somewhere for the scavengers. She deserves nothing else."

The captain nodded and Teagan trudged back upstairs.

He tried to recapture his dream but he dreamed of nothing else that he recalled the next day.

* * *

That evening Teagan lit the pyre that consumed the remains of his brother. He said his own private prayer for Eamon and promised him he would look after his Arling and Ferelden as he would have. He also swore that he would find who was ultimately responsible for his death and bring them to justice. Teagan's eyes found Isolde. She was heavily veiled and leaned on a servant for support as she watched her husband's corpse disappear in the flames. He found Sorcha watching from the crowd. Her face was solemn and revealed little except for the crease between her eyebrows. After Mother Hannah spoke and Teagan gave a short speech the nobles returned to the castle for a feast in his honor.

They shared their memories of Arl Eamon and toasted his memory as they feasted. Teagan had to be helped to his room afterward, he had tried a little too hard to keep up with the toasts. Sorcha retired early and read a little further into the novel she had started. Isolde played her part well despite enjoying being the center of attention. Eventually she also had to be helped to her rooms.

The castle slept in the next day. Later in the day the guests began to leave and by evening things had returned, more or less to normal.

Isolde wrote a letter to Sorcha's father.  
_  
__...Sorcha unfortunately does not truly seem to desire to be my lady-in-waiting. I had very high hopes for her, but unfortunately this does not seem to interest her. She can, of course, stay with us as long as she likes. She seems to truly take an interest in our horses and I'm sure she would be welcomed as an additional hand to our stable master..._

She thought this would do the trick. Sorcha's parents were well-to-do and would never wish for their daughter to be a stable hand. They would make sure she left as soon as possible and probably arrange to marry her to some old man. She gloated, basking in the imminent removal of another obstacle. She hoped it would be this easy. Otherwise she might need to resort to other methods. She sent her message off. Perhaps in as little as three days the girl would be packing.

She lifted the box containing the candle down from her dresser and sniffed it, whiffing the sweet musky scent and wondering how the candle would work. Today might be a little soon yet. Perhaps tomorrow evening. Her spirits were lifting and it was becoming more difficult to remember to be a grieving widow when it seemed like her dreams were about to come true.

* * *

Two days after the funeral Teagan asked Sorcha to go hunting with him. Her face lit up. She grabbed her bow and got the horses ready to go. They left early in the morning. There was a little misty fog but that was normal for the time of year. It would certainly burn off in a few hours and the day would be a warm one, by Ferelden standards. They went back to the deer trail where she had shot the stag. By the time they got there the sun was shining.

The place they had used as cover was just as he remembered it. The sun highlighting the foliage, turning the leaves into brightly shimmering green gems. The sun that did manage to filter through lit her hair on fire in patches. This was the spot where he pictured her as a dryad. He dismounted and helped her off her own horse. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. One of them should be scouting for a deer to flush down this path. He lead her down the path, to a place he thought she had never seen. It was a large pond.

"I used to come here with Eamon when I was young," he pointed out the spot where they liked to fish.

She smiled at him. They went to the flat boulder that was fully exposed to the sun.

Teagan sat down and took off his boots, he rolled up his pant legs. He sat on the edge of the flat rock, he feet and legs dangling into the cold water. Sorcha followed suit and sat next to him. He looked at her as she stared out over the water.

"Have you ever fished?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, "I'd like to though. Is it fun?"

Teagan shrugged, "It can be, if you have a lot of patience or good company."

Teagan was still staring at her. She wanted to leave, her cheeks were getting hot. Finally she looked at him. His eyes were so warm and brown. She thought about the book she was reading and suddenly realized _why_ her cheeks were hot. _I want him to kiss me? _

He finally leaned closer and his hand smoothed away a stray lock. _Maker, what if he kisses me? _She was going to panic any moment and run away. His hand went behind her head and he put his lips on hers. She didn't know what to do. The novel suggested that kisses involved bruising of lips, biting, conquering tongues and much heaving of bosoms. But this was nothing like that. It made her toes tingle though; maybe that was the very cold water, or a curious fish nibbling on her feet.

He pulled back from her and looked at her face. There was the panic again, he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, Sorcha. I just... have been wanting to do that for a long time."

She shook her head, "No, it's all right Teagan. I just... I don't know...", she shifted uncomfortably on the rock, "I mean, no one has ever...not like that."

"Kissed you?" Teagan asked.

She stared at her feet in the water and shook her head.

He smiled at her. "Did you mind?" he asked.

She shook her head and ventured a glance at him. "No, it was... nice."

Teagan chuckled silently. "Nice isn't exactly the word I hoped you would use."

She sighed with her frustration at trying to find the words.

"Can I try again and see if I can do better than 'nice' this time?" he asked.

She nodded. She furrowed her brow, concentrating and looked at him.

Teagan shook his head. "I can't kiss you."

She looked at him in surprise. "Why not?"

He laughed, "Because you are thinking about it too hard." He poked her in the ribs with a finger. "You're always so serious."

She laughed and caught his hand in her own. "Don't! That tickles."

"That's the point." He put his hand on her waist and probed for her ticklish spot. She squirmed away from him, laughing wildly. He kept pursuing her with his tickling fingers until she finally ran out of rock and she teetered on the edge. Another attack sent her over the edge, but not before she grabbed his arm and pulled him in. It wasn't deep but they were both drenched up to their waists.

"Cold!" she sputtered.

He yanked her close to him and wrapped his arms around her. This time the kiss was intense. His mouth found hers again, this time she relaxed into his arms and her mouth was softer. He nibbled gently on her lip and she sighed. His tongue traced the outline of her lower lip. She kissed back. She mimicked him, tugging on his lip with her teeth and tracing his mouth with her tongue.

He pulled away. "See, is that so hard?" He helped her out of the pond and they went back to the rock to sit in the sun. He pulled her close wrapping his arms around her to warm her up.

"Very nice," she said, her smile was mischievous.

Teagan huffed indignantly, "Very nice?" He shook his head. "Your standards are impossibly high, my lady."

She laughed. "Or my vocabulary for this is extremely limited."

Teagan looked at her, his brown eyes glowing. "Then it seems we should expand your vocabulary." He tipped her face up and this time gave her a kiss from right off the pages of "_The Rose of Orlais". _She gasped with the sensations. Then his mouth went to her neck and she felt his mouth and teeth exploring, they discovered sensations she had no idea a simple neck could be capable of producing. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her. She wondered how this attention to her neck could be causing the tingling feelings just below her belly. Then he turned her head to the side and started kissing her ear.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Very nice?" he asked, he breath was warm and moist next to her ear.

"Um hm," it seemed her vocabulary was shrinking instead of growing.

When he started to trace the whorls or her ear with his tongue it shrunk even further to sighs and moans. Then it stopped. She looked into his face wondering why.

He smiled at her. "You don't look like you want to run away any more."

She shook her head. "I guess I don't." She put her hand in his hair feeling its softness and she pulled his face down to hers and this time she kissed him. She was catching on. She took in the sensations of her hand on his face against the stubble of his beard. Her mouth explored his jaw, right where it met his neck. She inhaled his scent and tasted the salt on his skin. She bit him gently and felt him respond with a gasp. She was eager to continue exploring but he broke away from her.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

Teagan laughed, "Oh no, absolutely not."

"I don't understand," she said.

Teagan flushed this time. "I just don't want to take advantage of you, Sorcha, and if you continue to do that I'm not sure I could help myself." He pulled her close to him and kissed her forehead.

She wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she was sure she didn't want it to stop.

"Next time we come here we should bring fishing poles," he suggested.

She nodded, "I would like to try that. I'm not sure my patience is adequate but the company would be good." She smiled.

"Perhaps we should try to find something to shoot so we don't go back to the castle empty handed. People would think we were poor hunters if we do," he stood up and offered her a hand. She took it. He crushed her to him for one more kiss before letting her go regretfully.

They spent a couple of hours hunting and bagged a couple of pheasants and two ducks. Sorcha was sad to see their time together ending. Before they reached the castle he drew his horse close to hers and kissed her again. "Very nice?" he asked her again. She grinned at him. "Very, very nice."

She went back to her room, smiling like a fool and realized that "_The Rose of Orlais" _made a lot more sense now.

* * *

**Note: **_I so badly wanted to write, "He awoke to a terrific banging" in that second paragraph but I thought someone might take it the wrong way. :)  
_


	11. Chapter 11

Her hands smoothed the silky, maroon dress over her hips. She adjusted her décolletage admiring how her corset pushed her breasts up in attractive hillocks with a deep furrow running between them. Her hair was down tonight, in loose waves, and her lips and cheeks were reddened with cosmetics. She took the plain candle out of the box and put it in the sitting room, where he would most likely be sitting. She put another lit candle next to it, so it would be handy to like the special candle.

She went to the sitting room near the dining room, where they traditionally meet for a pre-dinner glass of brandy. Sorcha and Teagan were already there. _Something has changed, _she noted. They were sitting closer together and Sorcha was actually making eye contact with him and smiling. She never did that. _Well, that will soon end, _she thought. There were a few knights dining with them tonight and a Bann was visiting.

Neither of them noticed her entrance so she coughed delicately. Teagan's head turned and he saw her. They both rose together. Teagan gave her a brotherly kiss on the cheek.

"You look lovely tonight, Isolde," he complimented her, "What is the occasion?"

She shrugged and smiled, "Oh I suppose I was feeling too much like a sad, frumpy widow." She laced her arm through Teagan's and walked with him to the dining room. The rest of the dinner guests followed. Sorcha said nothing, just followed and sat at her usual place. Isolde sat at one end of the table, Teagan at the other. The remaining dinners filled in.

"So," Isolde asked, "How was your day today, Teagan?"

Teagan looked at Sorcha and smiled, "Quite _nice_ actually. Sorcha and I went hunting and we shot a few game birds."

Sorcha smiled at him when he emphasized the word _nice._

"I showed her where Eamon and I used to fish when we were young." He continued to look at her. Her cheeks were starting to burn again.

Isolde nails dug into the tablecloth. "Oh? I don't think I've ever been there. You'll have to take me sometimes, Teagan. I would like to see a spot that meant so much to Eamon."

Sorcha sneaked a glance at Isolde but she caught her looking. Isolde's eyes narrowed. Sorcha thought she read hatred in her glance, she quickly looked away.

"I'm sure we could arrange that. It's a rather long ride by horseback and the trails aren't the best, but that makes it more interesting," Teagan told her certain that would rapidly dampen her interest. Isolde didn't care for riding.

"I understand you're quite the hunter," Ser Perth said to Sorcha, he was sitting just on her right.

"I am a fair shot with a bow." She smiled politely at him. "Do you hunt, Ser?"

"I do," he said. "Perhaps some day we can hunt together. But in the meantime, we have some targets setup in the courtyard should you wish to practice your archery." He smiled at her, "I'll be out there practicing tomorrow morning if you wish a little friendly competition."

Teagan noticed Ser Perth talking to Sorcha. He knew Ser Perth was a terrible flirt. He kept his eyes on them.

Sorcha nodded, "I could always use more practice."

Isolde also saw Ser Perth talking to the girl. She smiled to herself. _There's a possibility I hadn't considered, _she thought. _Well, it doesn't matter, she should be gone soon. _

"What sort of bow do you prefer, my lady?" Ser Perth asked.

"A short bow if I'm hunting on horseback, otherwise a long bow," she replied.

Ser Perth nodded, "A long bow would be too long to draw on horseback. Have you ever tried a crossbow?"

She shook her head. "No, Ser. I haven't ever used one."

"Join me tomorrow morning and you can try mine," he invited her.

"How is a crossbow different?" she asked.

Teagan's brow furrowed as he saw Sorcha and Perth deeply engaged in conversation, the seating arrangements at the table would need to be changed in the future. Isolde noted the look on his face. _Yes, something has changed, _she thought. _Well, something else will change tonight. _A little sly smile crept over her lips.

"Teagan," Isolde said, "this pheasant is delicious. I must thank you for your contribution to our dinner." She raised her glass to toast him.

"Actually, you have Sorcha to thank, she is the one who brought down the pheasants," Teagan raised his glass to her.

Isolde made a bare nod in Sorcha's direction and set her glass down.

Ser Perth took in her gesture and leaned over to whisper in Sorcha's ear, "You seem to have made an enemy, my lady."

Sorcha nodded but looked down at her plate, her forehead furrowing.

"I can't imagine why," he murmured to her, "you seem like such a sweet girl." He thought about it a moment, perhaps he had just answered his own question. She was young, charmingly shy and attractive. Isolde was an attractive woman too. Certainly she had a sort of appeal but it was the polar opposite of Sorcha's. Isolde had been the center of attention at the castle for a long time, perhaps she resented the competition?

Ser Perth couldn't help himself. He had never been fond of Isolde. Something about her had always struck him as artificial and contrived, and her Orlesian accent grated on him.

"Then I propose a toast. To the lovely huntress, Sorcha!" He raised his glass and surreptitiously watched Isolde. "May your aim always be as true as your beauty, my lady."

Isolde hesitated, her eyes flashing angrily. Her mouth smiled but her eyes did not. She lifted her glass but sat it back down without drinking, Ser Perth noticed.

Sorcha turned bright red and smiled a little, wishing Ser Perth had not done that.

Teagan suppressed a desire to punch Ser Perth in the mouth. He drained his wine glass and sat it down brusquely, he gestured a servant over for a refill.

Dinner could not end soon enough for Sorcha after that. Ser Perth found he could barely get another word out of her and he felt badly about embarrassing her. Somehow he missed the glower that Teagan shot his way, but he certainly took note of the hatred in Isolde's eyes for the girl on his left.

After dinner Teagan was about to go to the library and ask Sorcha to join him, but Isolde put her hand on his arm. "May I have a few words in private with you, Teagan? In my sitting room?"

* * *

Sorcha picked up her book and curled into a chair. Things were starting to get interesting.

_She arranged herself seductively upon her sofa and asked that the knight be brought to her for a report on the day's incident. "Come in," she replied to the knock at her chamber door._

_"Madam, you wished to see me?" the chevalier asked brusquely as he walked into her chamber._

_"Indeed, Garren," she patted the sofa next to where she sat. "Please sit."_

_He sat stiffly and tried not to notice the sheerness of her gown and how it barely covered her heaving chest._

_She leaned over to pour him a glass of brandy and his eyes could see even more of her chest. He drew his eyes away reluctantly._

_

* * *

_  
Teagan nodded but regretted the interruption to his plan. He needed to talk to her anyway about her involvement with Nimh. Isolde took his arm again. Teagan was getting annoyed with her clinginess but she was Eamon's widow, he had to put up with her for him.

Isolde drew him into her sitting room over to the divan. "Would you pour us a brandy?" she asked Teagan. He got up and did so, putting rather a large amount in his own glass. He was still angry about Ser Perth's flirtation with Sorcha. While he was doing that Isolde lit the candle. Its sweet musky scent began to fill the room. Teagan return to Isolde with the brandy and sat down, a bit further away than she liked. Already Isolde could feel the candle at work. She felt too warm, like her skin was on fire. She had to reign herself in otherwise she was going to throw herself at him.

* * *

_Ser Garren's peek at her breasts did not go unnoticed by Lady Talia, she smiled slightly. Perhaps this proud knight was corruptible after all. She pressed the glass of brandy into his hand. Touching him rather more than was strictly necessary._

_Garren could not help but smell her perfume as she was sitting so close to him. Her touch sent a tingling shock through his body._

_"My lady, what did you wish to speak to me about?" he asked._

_

* * *

_  
Teagan smelled the sweetly scented candle. It made him feel more intoxicated than he knew he was. He was starting to feel too warm. He ran his finger around his collar and fidgeted in his seat. "What did you wish to speak to me about, my lady?" he asked her.

Isolde leaned forward to close the distance between them. Her hand ran over her décolletage. "I just wanted to see how you were holding up." She breathed deeply to make her chest rise and fall seductively. "I know the... pressures of running an Arling can be a bit much." She took a sip of her brandy. A little pearl of liquid was left on her lip. She slowly licked it off.

Teagan started to feel strange. He was unexpectedly aroused. His eyes were drawn to Isolde's chest and the swells there looked enticing. _This is so wrong, _his mind screamed. He noticed little beads of sweat on her forehead. She leaned into him, her hair tickled against his face. He pulled away a little and drank a large gulp of brandy. That did nothing to help him collect himself. Isolde wrapped a hand his neck and pulled him closer.

* * *

_"Speak?" Talia laughed. She set her drink down. "The time for speaking is past, Garren." She drew closer to him, her mouth right next to his ear. "You say you're a man of action, Garren. Now it is time to prove that." She turned his face toward her, his face was set into a scowl; an expression she did not believe. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him into her._

_Garren could not contain himself any longer. Talia had been teasing him for weeks, taunting him, daring him. He crushed her to him in a bruising kiss, his tongue conquering her mouth, he could feel her breath coming hard, her breasts heaving against his chest._

Sorcha found she was holding her breath. She forced herself to breath. Those feelings were coming over her again, that sensation below her belly. She decided to go to bed but continue reading. She changed into her shift and put the lamp next to her bed again.

_

* * *

_

"_Tee-gan_," she murmured. She kissed him hard, biting his lip. At first he did not respond. But after a moment his resolve weakened and his mouth opened under hers. Her hands wove into his hair and pulled him even harder into her. Her hands were on his chest, her mouth on his neck. He could not seem to control his hands, they went to her bodice and unlaced her. Her neatly contained breasts sprang forth, unfettered. He groaned and grasped one, rubbing the nipple roughly with his thumb. _So wrong! _his mind screamed, his body disagreed. He wanted the brown curls to be red ones. The soft, uncalloused hands to be the strong, capable ones of someone else.

* * *

_Garren bit her neck softly and Talia moaned. She pulled him down on top of her, her hands working under his shirt, skimming over his firm musculature. She grabbed his shirt and peeled it off him. His broad chest was revealed to her greedy eyes. She worshiped him with her hands, taking in his physical perfection like she was a patron of the arts admiring a sculpture. He moaned and his hand went to the drawstring at the top of her dress. His fingers were large, but deft. They carefully unlaced her bodice. He laid it aside and slowly pulled down the top of her dress to expose her small, snowy white breasts with their delicate pink peaks._

Sorcha found her breath coming more quickly. She closed her eyes for a moment imagining... then her hand went to her own breast. She had a jumble of imagines in her mind; Garren, Teagan, even Ser Perth. Her breath caught for a moment.

_His tongue delicately traced the curve of her breasts and she moaned and arched her back wanting more. He gave her more. He sucked at the tips, drawing them into tight knots. A small whimper escaped her throat. Then his hands abruptly pulled her dress down, over her hips and off altogether. She lay under him, fully naked now. He sat back and looked at her closely. How long he had imagined her like this? Open to him, vulnerable, his to possess? He ran his hand down her body to her belly and then to the apex between her legs. He squeezed her and she thrust against his hand, crying out. His large hand rubbed against her, searching for the tender area between her legs._

Sorcha held the book with one hand, her other hand explored. _Oh! There? _She tentatively touched herself. It was too intense_. _She backed off a little. The sensation was interesting. It left her feeling like something was building within her.

_

* * *

_  
Isolde could see the war within him. She reached for his breeches, rubbing her hand against his stiffness. She was determined to win this battle. He moaned and thrust against her hand. His hands pulled her dress down to her waist. She pulled him down on top of her and ravaged his neck with her teeth. He moaned again and ground his pelvis against her. She responded with her own moan and counter-thrust.

* * *

_Talia gasped as he found the spot he was searching for. She couldn't help thrusting her hips against him as he rubbed gently. "Garren, I need you!" she murmured. She could feel the growl in his chest. "Not yet, my lady," he denied her. His large finger went into her teasing her while his thumb continued the compelling dance against her most sensitive spot. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her hips thrust against his hand. His free hand pinched the tips of her breast. His eyes feasted on her growing passion, her surrender to his onslaught._

_"Oh!" she cried out as her senses were overwhelmed by her passion. She shuddered against him, her eyes tightly closed, feeling helpless to his insistent fingers. Her legs squeezed his hand and then she relaxed, her heart beat rapidly and her breath came quickly._

Sorcha's eyes grew big then shut as she tried to imagine herself... Teagan, Garren, Ser Perth. The images wouldn't stay still, they danced through her mind while her fingers tried to reenact what she just read. She felt something of what she read building within her, she could sense almost what lay ahead.

_Garren's chuckle rumbled through his chest. All those months of her tormenting him with her flirtations and flippant scorn. Now to have her laying under him begging. Fate was his friend at last. _

_Talia's hands went to his face and she kissed him sweetly. "Now, my knight?" Her hand went to his breeches and she felt him stiff against her palm. Garren's breath caught in his throat as she unlaced him and worked his breeches down. He removed them the rest of the way. Talia gasped and bit her lip. This knight's lance was a fearsome weapon. She reached to touch him, trying to wrap her fingers around him, her fingertips came far from encircling him. She saw the ironic smile he wore and he meet her eyes directly._

_"Ser Knight, I understand your nickname now," she said. "Garren, the Impaler. I always thought that had something to do with your prowess at jousting."_

_His eyebrow rose, "Perhaps it does, my lady. Shall we find out?"_

_He wrapped her leg around his waist and slowly sheathed himself inside her, letting her adjust to him slowly. She whimpered. She truly felt impaled. But the feeling was not unpleasant. No. Indeed he went too slowly for her liking, she wanted to be completely filled by him. She pushed herself up, to try to take more. He laughed, "No lady, do not rush." He held back from her, waiting for her to tame her impulses._

Sorcha's eyes grew wide again, she read faster.

_When she ceased her struggling he resumed his slow progress, rewarded by the small cries coming from her closed mouth. Finally he was fully ensconced within her; she was deliciously snug and wet around him, then he began to move. Slowly at first. Her hips rocked with him. Pushing, as he did, so he would sink ever deeper into her. She murmured his name, "Garren, oh yes, Garren!" Then he began to increase his speed as his passion built. He felt his release building, his self-control fading. He pushed himself into her, again and again, faster now, heedless of her pleasure any longer. His climax burst from him with one last, powerful thrust and she shuddered against him, crying out loudly, "Maker!" He held himself taut for a moment then collapsed onto her, spent and drained.  
_  
Sorcha's finger rubbed against her _spot_ briskly as she imagined the scene in her mind and soon she was bucking against her hand, on the verge of... something, then it happened and she felt a tremendous release and a guttural sound escaped her throat.

_So that's what all the fuss is about! _she thought. She put the book away for the night and pulled the covers up, her body still tingling from the experience. She smiled and imagined masculine arms wrapped around her. She slipped quickly into sleep.

* * *

_Wrong! Wrong! Eamon's widow and he was barely even dead. This is wrong! _His mind raged at him. Something snapped within him and as quickly as it came the arousal left. He pushed Isolde away from him and stood up. "No, Isolde. This can never happen." He practically ran for the door and went out of the room. He stood for a moment collecting himself. He felt his head clearing a little and his sanity returning. _What was I thinking? _he wondered. The episode left him so disturbed he went directly to his room, not wishing to see anyone for the rest of the evening.

Isolde watched him rush out of her sitting room, her hands knotted in frustration but the candle was still acting on her. She sought her own release and felt shame at having to resort to such measures. Finally when the candle released it's hold over her she blew it out. She went to bed feeling rage over his rejection. Somehow in all her planning she had never imagined that he would reject her. It must be because of _her. She will be gone soon enough. One way or another. _She had been foolish. She should have waited until Sorcha was gone before using the candle again. Well, no matter, there was another day to try again.

* * *

_**Note:**__For those that didn't read Vol 3 of the Wisteria series the Candela di Amore was the result of Zevran and Anders collaborating to make an inhalable version of a Dalish aphrodisiac whose formula Zevran stole from Velanna. The pair had argued over how strong the formula should be. Anders wanted to make it extra strong. Zevran wanted it to be subtle enough that someone wouldn't realize they were being manipulated. Zevran won the argument._


	12. Chapter 12

Sorcha woke up early and dressed sensibly for her archery practice with Ser Perth. She got her two favorite bows, ate a quick breakfast and went out to the courtyard. He was drilling some of the soldiers so she sat on the steps and waited. She remembered her reading from the prior night and how her mind thought of him, like the chevalier Garren. What did he look like under that armor? She tried to push the thoughts away but since _it_ had happened it seemed like she couldn't look at a man without wondering. She was glad when Ser Perth finally finished so she had something else to occupy her mind.

Ser Perth saw Sorcha when he finished with the soldiers and he waved her down.

"Good day, my lady," he kissed her hand and looked into her eyes.

Sorcha turned pink and drew her hand away. "Ser Perth," she said in greeting, her eyes only meeting his for a moment before she looked shyly away.

_So charming, _he thought. "Well, let's see what you can do with that bow." He indicated a spot a good ways off from the target. She went further back than that. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You do like a challenge."

"It would be too easy otherwise," she said without arrogance, just assurance.

He went to where she stood and drew a line in the dirt, so he would know where to stand.

She picked up her longbow and nocked and arrow. She drew, aimed and released. The arrow hit the target in the center.

Ser Perth whistled. "You are a fair shot indeed!"

She smiled at the compliment and gestured for him to take his turn. He did so, hitting right next to her arrow. "It seems you're a fair shot too, Ser."

"Let's take a step backwards and try again." He set a new spot to shoot from. They both shot and did equally well. They repeated the process until they were finally standing at the bottom of the stairs. This time his aim was off slightly but she still hit the target squarely.

"I concede to you, Sorcha. But how far back can you go and do that?"

She took a few more stairs back toward the castle. "Maybe here," she said. She shot again and hit her mark well within the bulls eye but the distance was now so great that it was difficult for her to draw the string back far enough to put the proper velocity behind the arrow. A heavier bow would help, but it would be too hard for her to pull.

Ser Perth admired her skill. "You know, with a crossbow you could shoot even further." He trotted down the stairs to get his crossbow and she followed after him. He showed her how to load the bolt and the mechanism for drawing back on the string. Then he held it up to show her the proper way. He handed it to her and helped her to get it into position. He stepped back and inspected how she was holding it. It wasn't quite right so he stood behind her and showed her exactly where to place her hands and how to hold the bow. He was so close to her, her cheeks began to burn again.

Teagan chose just that moment to come out into the courtyard. He saw Ser Perth standing over someone; who it was, he couldn't tell, until a strand of long red hair was tossed by the wind. He ran lightly down the stairs. Ser Perth heard the crunch of gravel behind him and turned to see the Arl behind him, with a stern expression on his face. Sorcha turned to see.

"My lord," Ser Perth said, "I was just showing Sorcha how to use a crossbow." Something about the look on Teagan's face made him feel like he'd been caught doing something inappropriate.

Teagan's mouth turned up in a smile, that wasn't reflected in his eyes. "I see that, Ser Perth." He paused a moment, noticing the color on her cheeks. "However, I need her help in the stables this morning, if you don't mind?" He didn't wait for a response, he took the bow from her and handed it to Perth. He put a hand on her shoulder to steer her to the stables.

"A moment, I need to get my bows," she said.

"No, don't bother," he told her. "Perth, can you collect her bows and take them inside?" He directed her steps toward the stable.

Perth watched them walk away. Teagan looked so possessive of her. It hadn't occurred to him that he fancied the girl. He nearly started to laugh, _Oh this is priceless. _He put a few things together. _Isolde hates her, Teagan likes her. Maybe that's why Isolde hates her so. _He couldn't help himself he burst out laughing. _Then I come along and turn the triangle into a rectangle. _He chuckled. _A wiser man would back away from the situation. I shouldn't stir the pot. _He pondered the wiser course for a moment then decided he needed to find a very large spoon.

"What is it, Teagan?" Sorcha asked as they walked, she struggled to keep up with his pace.

He said nothing, just continued toward the stable.

_Is he angry with me? _she wondered.

When they got to the fenced pasture near the stable he stopped. He turned her back into the fence and stood in front of her. She looked up into his face with a questioning look.

"Forgive me, Sorcha," Teagan sighed, "Ser Perth has a bit of a reputation as a womanizer."

"He was just showing me how to hold the crossbow," she said. "I don't think he meant anything by it."

Teagan smiled at her. She was so innocent and trusting. He didn't want to spoil that. "Sorcha, sometimes men take advantage of women. They don't treat women honorably." Her face looked a little blank, he frowned trying to think of a way to explain. "They just want the conquest of a woman and then they leave her." He saw a little understanding come to her. "Do you understand?"

She nodded, "I think so."

"Good," he leaned forward and kissed her, gently. She had forgotten nothing of what she had learned the prior day. But then she pushed him away.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

Her brow was furrowed. "How do I know you're not a womanizer?"

Teagan's mouth fell open. "My lady?"

Her dark eyes flashed. "I have no knowledge of these things, for all I know that could be your goal."

"No, Sorcha. I would never dishonor you in that way." He looked directly into her eyes.

"I suppose a real womanizer would admit to it if confronted?" she felt very confused.

Teagan groaned. He truly regretted saying anything now. "Sorcha, I truly do care about you."

She sighed, she hated this seed of doubt that was growing in her. "And Ser Perth wouldn't say that if he thought it might help his cause?" She turned away from him and rested her head against the top railing.

She felt Teagan's hand stroking her hair. "Sorcha, I have cared for you ever since found you on the Imperial Highway and you were chilled nearly to death from blood loss. I spent that day with you in my arms, trying to get you warm again." He put his face next to hers. "I know you don't remember, but I held you close for two days; walked with you into the lake to cool your fever. I prayed you wouldn't be taken from me." He turned her to face him again. "All the time I held you, I felt your strong heart beating and I did everything I could to ensure it continued to beat. I grew to know it better than my own. I would never break that heart I worked so hard to protect."

Her eyes softened and she smiled. She put her hand on the side of his head. "I'm sorry, Teagan. I just get so confused." She drew his head down to hers. He kissed her tenderly, afraid now to show more passion, yet he so wanted to erase the images of Isolde from the prior night. Still, he had to move slowly and win back her trust. He held her close and smoothed her hair.

"Come on, Sorcha, lets go see that colt of yours," he pulled her to the stable by the hand.

That night at supper Teagan escorted Sorcha to the table and seated her on his right. Ser Perth managed to secure a seat next to hers. This time he couldn't help but notice the glare Teagan shot at him. He just returned a friendly smile. Ser Perth managed to claim some of her attention over dinner. Isolde remained subdued through supper, speaking to those seated near her but not to Teagan. He also avoided speaking to her, or even looking at her.

When Sorcha went to her room after supper a servant deliver a message to her, from her parents. It was a tersely worded order to return home immediately. No reason was given. She felt tears come as she considered leaving. She had grown so fond of Teagan and her life here, especially now that she didn't have to wait on Isolde. She threw herself down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow feeling utterly miserable. A servant came to her room and knocked. Teagan wanted to see her in the library. She nodded and washed her face, trying to erase the effects of her crying. She took the note with her.

Teagan knew immediately something was wrong. "What is it, Sorcha?" He hugged her and stroked her hair, she struggled against the tears and conquered them. She handed him the note. He read it and sighed. He couldn't ask her to disobey her parents.

"I have to go," she said.

"I know," Teagan nodded sadly. "Do you think they found out you weren't Isolde's lady?"

She shook her head, "I never told them." She remembered Isolde had been glaring at her recently. "Perhaps she did?"

Teagan thought about how much Isolde fussed about her and thought it was extremely likely. He buried his face in her hair and sighed. "I don't want you to go, but you can't defy your parents." He thought for a moment, holding her in his arms, and made a decision.

He tipped her face up. "I need you to trust me. You have to return home for awhile. But I will come to your home and talk to your parents. I just can't go immediately."

She nodded.

He kissed her, this time not holding back. She responded in kind. He found himself wanting to continue but unwilling to trust himself again.

"Don't stop," she said.

He groaned against her hair. "My darling, I don't want to take advantage of you."

She groaned, "I don't care."

His eyes glowed as he looked at her. "Perhaps we can compromise." He took her by the hand and walked her to his bedroom. He shut the door and pushed her against it. He lips ravished her neck and ears, his teeth bit her shoulder. She sighed against the onslaught. This time he let her bite his neck and nibble at his ear. He hoped he had the willpower to control himself. His hand moved over her breast and brushed it through her clothes. She nearly melted to the floor. He caught her, laughing at her reaction. He picked her up and carried her to his bed he tossed her down and sat beside her. Her hands grabbed at his shirt pulling it up. He helped her remove it and laid down next to her.

She propped her head up and looked at him. His chest wasn't perhaps the broadest but his torso was wiry and well muscled and his arms were strong. She ran her hand across him and around his waist. She loved how his body felt under her hands. Her hand ran down his belly and he gasped and grabbed her hand.

"No," he warned her. "Do not tempt fate, my sweet, I'm not made of steel."

She smiled and ran her hand over his chest again, "I'd beg to differ."

His eyes crinkled at her comment, "Flatterer." His hands went to the buttons on the front of her dress. He unbuttoned one, then kissed the spot revealed and went to the next button. He stopped when he reached her waist then he pulled aside the portion of the dress he unbuttoned and admired the sight of her in her chemise, the thin fabric clung to her breasts, he could see the points of her nipples underneath. He lifted her a moment and pulled the top of her dress down to her waist and the sleeves off her. He saw the scar from her wound and he stopped to touch it. That spot never failed to make him remember that ride to the Circle Tower and how close he came to losing her. He kissed it. She shivered, realizing the sight of that scar meant something to him, although she didn't entirely know what. She wished he could remember that time.

Finally he lifted the chemise off her and he saw the creamy ivory of her breasts and their red peaks. He feasted on the sight for a moment. It felt like a gift from the Maker, this sweet, innocent creature, trusting him with her body. He shut his eyes and said a silent word of thanks to the Maker that he had preserved her life and gifted him with this.

"Sorcha, you are so beautiful," he breathed. His hand gently caressed her breast and she gasped under him and arched her back. He softly kissed each one, then he took the peak into his mouth and sucked gently, feeling it reconfigure into a firm knot under his tongue. She gasped and pulled his head down harder on her breast. He gently nipped her and she responded by wriggling her hips and moaning quietly. He undid a few more buttons on her dress, so her belly was exposed. He continued to kiss her breasts but his hand dipped lower, to her belly.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, Sorcha," he told her.

She shook her head. "Keep going," her voice felt like it was stuck in her throat.

His hand slipped to her waist and inside her dress. It went behind her back and down to her behind. She was so firm and muscular, yet soft. She groaned with pleasure feeling him caressing her backside. Then his hand slipped back to the front down past her belly. He squeezed her between the legs and watched her face. He mouth opened and she sucked in a breath. He rubbed against her with his palm. She moved underneath his hand. Finally he parted her with his fingers. His finger found the spot she had discovered last night. She writhed under his touch. He took that as a good sign. He slipped a finger inside of her; enjoying her slick warmth. He didn't want to damage anything so he withdrew his finger and went back to the soft mound of flesh. She began making little cries and her hips just wouldn't stay still. He careful guided her to the edge of her climax, then continued the rubbing and softly bit at her breast. That sent her over the edge and she cried out and trapped his hand between her thighs and thrust against his hand.

When her body relaxed he whispered into her ear, "Nice?"

She laughed, "No." His face fell comically. "It was wonderful."

She looked at him, "We're not done, are we?" Her hand reached over to his belly again and began to trek downward. He caught her hand again. "No, Sorcha. Save that for your wedding night, my darling."

She felt disappointment, somehow it felt like a rejection. _Wedding night indeed. Probably some horrid old, man with hair coming out of his ears, her parents would marry her off to. _She wanted to give herself to Teagan, to at least have that for herself.

"Will you stay here tonight, sweet Sorcha?" he asked her.

She nodded happily and kissed him.

"Let me find you something more comfortable to wear." He found a loose shirt in his wardrobe. She slipped it on, then modestly peeled her dress off her hips.

He thought about what he was going to wear to bed. He normally slept in the buff. Finally he decided to sleep in his breeches.

"You're sleeping in your trousers?" she asked.

He nodded a half smile on his face.

"That doesn't seem very comfortable," she said.

"No, but it is safer."

She didn't know whether to be glad he was so considerate of her virtue or unhappy for the same reason. She crawled under the covers and he joined her. They met in the middle, belly to belly. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her face softly. He forgot to extinguish the lamp so he got up to do so and came back quickly. He wrapped her up in his arms again. Feeling her nakedness under his shirt made his desire flare.

"Sorcha?"

"Hm?" she had her ear to his chest. She liked feeling his voice rumbling through his chest.

"I love you," he said.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "You do?"

"Yes, very much."

"I love you too, Teagan," she tried to nestle closer to him but it simply wasn't possible

He smiled and kissed her forehead. He didn't remember ever being happier.

* * *

Alas, happiness is a fleeting emotion and the morning came too quickly. The weather was gray and leaden, misty, thoroughly melancholy weather appropriate for a sad leave taking. Teagan would send her home with three guards to escort her. They had to take a cart to carry her luggage but she would ride rather than sit in the bumpy cart.

"Be patient, my love. You'll be back soon." He kissed her, not caring who saw it. He fastened her cloak around her shoulders. "Don't get chilled." _I won't be there to warm you, _he thought.

She looked at him, unable to stop the tears this time. He wiped them away with this thumb. She threw her arms around his neck, "I love you," she whispered. He grasped her tightly, "I love you, Sorcha."

She turned away and mounted her horse. The guards started down the path away from the castle and she followed. She looked back once to see him watching her. Then she kicked her horse to a canter and rode faster until he was out of sight. Then she waited for the guards to catch up.

* * *

Two people watched from inside the castle. The tender scene brought a smile to Ser Perth's lips. He silently congratulated Teagan, he seemed to have both won and lost the girl. He wondered how this would affect Isolde. Somehow he suspected she might be behind her leaving. He wished he were a fly on the wall in whatever room she was in, he suspected she might be gloating right about now.

Isolde was indeed gloating. Her plan had executed exactly as she had wished. The annoying girl was gone. Now she just needed to conquer Teagan's reticence. She suspected perhaps just a little time was needed for him to forget the girl. She put the candle back in the box. She would definitely be using this again.

* * *

_**Note: **When I started this story, I thought it might be just a few chapters long. It got away from me!_


	13. Chapter 13

When Sorcha got home her parents lectured her sternly on how disappointed they were she had failed in her duties as a lady-in-waiting to Isolde and her father ranted about how his daughter would never be a stable hand.

"Stable hand?" she asked. "I was never asked to be a stable hand. I was treated as a guest," she said.

"Oh? And I suppose the Lady Isolde is a liar?" he father countered.

"She told you this?"

Her father handed her the letter. Sorcha read it and gasped. "I was never asked to work in the stables!"

"Sorcha, enough! Perhaps they hadn't gotten around to telling you yet. Either way, it's insulting that they would consider such appropriate for you."

She sighed and wondered if she should try to explain the complicated situation to her parents. "Lady Isolde hated me, she wanted me to be sent away. That's why she wrote this. Teagan didn't want me to leave." She couldn't tell her parents about the intimacy that had developed between her and Teagan.

Sorcha's mother looked at her in wide-eyed shock, "Girl, no wonder! How do you presume such familiarity with your betters? Did you learn nothing there?"

Sorcha looked down, "He told me to address him by his first name," she mumbled.

Her parents looked at each other, a knowing glance exchanged.

"Oh, did he now?" her father said. "And what else did he tell you? Is this why you remained a guest?"

Her mother looked at her, noticing her cheeks were flaming. She turned to her husband. "Darling, could you leave us alone to chat for a moment?" Her father looked about to protest but her look brooked no argument. He huffed and left.

She sat down on the sofa and patted it for Sorcha to sit with her. She dutifully went to sit with her. "Deary, you need to tell me what happened there between you two."

Sorcha sighed, she wasn't about to implicate Teagan in anything. "Nothing, Mama. We just went hunting and riding together. We became friends."

Her mother sighed, not believing a word of it. "Sorcha, you need to tell me the truth. Did he... _touch_ you?"

_Touch me? Maker, yes! _She felt no shame over it although she knew her cheeks were flaming. "No," she shook her head.

"Oh Sorcha, girl, I know you're lying," her mother shook her head. Sorcha hated disappointing her. "Well, don't worry, child. We'll find you a husband and no one need be the wiser. A Bann made inquiries about you a few days ago on behalf of his son, apparently he met you at the castle. We have given him permission for his son to court you. I expect you'll mind your manners this time!"

"Very well, mother." _When it rains mabari puppies, _she thought.

* * *

Ser Perth ran into Isolde in the garden, not unexpectedly since he had been looking for her. The fog and gloom of the early morning had burned off and the day was turning into a lovely one.

"My lady," he bowed to her and kissed her hand gallantly. He had a small smile on his face. "I didn't know you would be here, but it is a lovely day to take in the breathtaking beauty of nature, don't you think?" His eyes caught her eyes and held them boldly.

Isolde flushed slightly, and couldn't help the coquettish smile. "I didn't know you enjoyed flowers so much," she replied coyly.

Ser Perth stopped in front of a rose bush. He bent over to inhale the scent of a fully opened rose, ignoring the more perfect, slightly opened buds nearby. "Oh, but I do," he said. "Take the rose, for instance. So many people find the buds to be most beautiful, but I prefer the flowers that have fully opened to allow their true glory to take shape."

Her estimation of Ser Perth tripled, he was certainly charming. She smiled warmly at him.

They sat together on a stone bench in the garden and chatted about trifles, he was looking for an opportune moment to ask the question that had been bothering him all day.

"Speaking of Teagan," he said when the subject came up, "he seems rather morose today, have you noticed?"

A sly smile creased Isolde's face. "Yes, he does look a little forlorn. Perhaps he lost cherished pet?"

Perth laughed, "A pet? I didn't know Teagan had any pets. A beloved mabari perhaps?"

She laughed, "No, I think not a mabari. Perhaps a kitten."

"I never thought of Arl Teagan being the sort to keep a kitten. Would this kitten by any chance have red fur?" he probed.

"You seem to know more about Teagan's pets than you let on, Ser!" she touched his hand as she laughed. "Did you perhaps wish to play with this kitten yourself?"

He laughed with her. "Me lady? Oh no. I prefer my felines to be grown. They're more interesting when their claws are fully developed."

Isolde put her hand on his and for a moment grasped him with her nails. She smiled at him again, the invitation was unmistakable.

He picked up her hand and made as if to kiss the back, but turned her hand over and kissed her wrist instead. He hadn't intended to seduce her but if he must, he must. Who was he to deny fate?

"And what happened to the poor Arl's kitten? Was it run over by a carriage? Eaten by a wolf?" he asked her.

"I can only wish," she laughed, "the kitten was returned to her home because she was an unsuitable lady-in-waiting." Isolde confided in him.

"Oh?" he mused, "I would have thought the Arl would be the last person in the world to send her home."

Isolde's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly why she had to go." Her temper was starting to rise. "He was incapable of making any rational choices with her here."

Ser Perth smiled at her, "Oh, yes. I can see that might hamper his judgment." He paused a moment. "You're certainly a good sister-in-law to be looking after him like that."

"I'm glad you understand, Ser." She lowered her voice, "Would you join me for a nightcap this evening, before you retire?"

"I would be delighted, my lady." He stood and kissed her hand again.

_One thing about pot-stirring_; _you never know exactly how the stew will turn out, _he mused.

* * *

Teagan had to get to the bottom of his brother's death. He thought it best that Sorcha be away while he dealt with this but he was already missing her.

He went to the kitchen to find Angus, the chief cook, and question him about Nimh. Other than a few guards, no one yet knew that Nimh was suspected in his brother's death.

"Angus," Teagan said, "Can I count upon your discretion?"

"Of course, my lord." Angus wiped his hands off on a towel and escorted the Arl to a table in the corner where they could talk undisturbed.

"The servant that used to work here, Nimh. What can you tell me about her?"

Angus made a grimace. "Other than being lazy, disrespectful and having an evil eye that could kill you a dozen leagues away, she was fine." He laughed sourly. "I can't imagine what the Arlessa saw in her to recommend her to me." He shook his head, "I wasn't sorry to hear that she slipped away in the night, although I can imagine she probably stole things."

Teagan bit his lip thinking. "So the Arlessa asked you to hire her?"

"Aye, my lord, she said she met her at Lady Amelia's and she had to move to Redcliffe to look after her mother."

Teagan nodded. "Thank you, Angus. You've been a big help." He paused a moment, "While I'm here, is there anything you need for the kitchen? Do you need additional help to make up for Nimh?"

Angus laughed, "No Lord, we didn't really need Nimh's help we just took her on because the Lady asked me to." He thought for a moment, "You know, we could use one of those new coal fired stoves. They're supposed to regulate heat much better than the wood fired ones. Other than that, I can't think of anything. It isn't like we _have _to have it but we might not burn the food so badly if we did." He laughed.

Teagan smiled, "I'll look into it." He clasped hands with Angus and took his leave.

_So Sorcha was right, Nimh was hired on the recommendation of Isolde. Assuming she was telling the truth, maybe Nimh had been charming at Amelia's simply to get Isolde to like her and hire her. If not... then what other assumption could he make but that Isolde hired her to kill Eamon?_ Teagan shivered at the thought. _But why? What possible reason could she have for wanting to kill Eamon? _

He went into Eamon's study. He shook his head when he caught himself calling it Eamon's study. Would it ever feel like anything else? The study still made him sad. It felt like his brother could walk in at any moment. He couldn't bring himself to sit in Eamon's chair in front of the fire. He didn't know if he ever would. But his desk, he sat down experimentally. It just felt so wrong. Still, he needed a place to work, the library was not private enough. He was going to have to get used to this sooner or later.

He composed a note to Amelia asking about Nimh. He should have an answer back in a week or so.

He gave the message to a messenger and spared a couple of guards as an escort.

Now he needed to talk to Isolde and he dreaded it. He summoned her to the study. It took far too long but she finally arrived.

She looked around the study. "Ah, it is like he is still here," she sniffed tearfully and patted at her eyes.

"Please sit, Isolde," he gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down gracefully.

"I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night, Isolde," he said. "I don't know what came over me but there was no excuse for my behavior."

Isolde shook her head, "No, Teagan, I am just as guilty as you. I am sorry too." She put her face into her hands.

Teagan sighed, "Can we just pretend it never happened?"

Isolde nodded, "Yes, that's probably best." _Baise!_

Teagan shifted uncomfortably at his desk. "There was another thing I wanted to ask you about."

"Of course, Teagan," she said pleasantly.

"Did you have something to do with Sorcha leaving?" he asked.

"Well, I did write to her parents to let them know how she was doing," she admitted, "Perhaps they decided it was time for her to come home."

"Anything in particular you might have said that would make them think that?" he pressed.

"Perhaps they did not think it was appropriate that she stay as an unchaperoned guest since she was no longer my lady-in-waiting."

Teagan sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, "And why would they think that?"

Isolde huffed, "Things happen to innocent girls when they're not being supervised," she looked at Teagan pointedly. "Am I wrong?"

Teagan said nothing. Could he really deny it?

"Besides, Teagan, you don't need a distraction like that. You need to find a sensible wife for yourself, someone closer to your age. Someone appropriate to your station."

Teagan frowned, "I don't need help finding a wife, Isolde."

Isolde stared at him, "You don't mean to marry that _chat de gouttière?" _She rubbed her forehead in frustration.

Teagan looked at her coldly, "It's none of your business, Isolde."

Isolde stood up and folded her arms over her chest. "Of course it is my business! You don't think Eamon would have wanted me to look out for his brother's interests?"

He shook his head, trying to contain his anger. "Eamon liked Sorcha, I know he would not have objected. Don't try to use my brother's memory like that."

She glared at him. "Very well, if you want to ruin your life with a commoner chained to your side, I can't stop you!"

"Isolde, if you want to continue to live here you're going to have to be nicer to her. I'm going to expect you to treat her with respect." Teagan warned her.

_Continue to live here? Would he put me out?_ Her mouth dropped open at the implication. "You would turn out your brother's widow?" she shrieked. "What sort of man are you, Teagan? Eamon would be ashamed!"

Teagan's fury erupted. "I told you to stop using my brother's memory to try to get your way!" He slammed the desk with his hand and Isolde jumped. He got control of himself. "Go," he told her coldly, "just go."

Isolde flung open the door to his study and stomped out, hurling Orlesian curses over her shoulder.

Despite what he had said, he would feel horribly guilty moving Isolde out of the Castle, but he would do it if he had to. He would either find her a husband or set her up with a nice place to live in Denerim. Maybe a wing of the estate in Denerim until he could find someone to marry her.


	14. Chapter 14

Ser Perth knocked quietly at Isolde's door.

"Come in," he heard from within.

He went in and found her sitting languorously on her divan. She looked a little tipsy. She was wearing a rather sheer gown that was cut dangerously low.

She got up to greet him. "So delighted you came, Ser."

He bowed and kissed her hand, "My lady."

"Why don't you pour us a brandy?" she suggested and resettled herself on the divan.

He smiled and went to the brandy decanter. While he was pouring he noticed a sweet musky fragrance began to fill the room. Fortunately his back was to her because his mouth dropped open. _Isolde has a Candela di Amore_? He recognized that scent well from a trip or two to The Pearl awhile back. _Isolde knows some interesting people. Only one person in Denerim still had those... Cesar, Sanga had gotten rid of her stock. _

"My lady," he handed her a glass. He pretended to sniff the air, but actually was trying not to breathe. "What is that scent?"

"Oh, just a scented candle I picked up in Denerim. Lovely isn't it?"

"No, actually. It clashes with your perfume." He reached over and snuffed out the candle, "Do you mind?"

Isolde's mouth opened in surprise. "Well, no. Of course not."

Perth smiled and sat next to her. He raised his glass, "To you, my lady." He drank most of the brandy. He got closer to her and nuzzled her neck. "Yes, I much prefer your scent, sweet Isolde." Internally Ser Perth was wiping his brow. _That was a close call with the candle. _He could only imagine what would have happened if he had left her with a child, if that was possible at her age.

Isolde smiled. The candle was redundant tonight. She smiled as Perth's nuzzling turned more passionate.

* * *

Sorcha wandered the garden at her parent's estate. It nearly rivaled the Arl's. Her mind was lost in daydreams and the flower filled garden was merely a lovely backdrop. She thought about Teagan all the time, and that night they had spent together replayed over and over. She was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn't hear the broken footsteps approaching. It was a gentle touch on the shoulder that brought her out of her reverie.

"Ser Oswyn!" she jumped. "I didn't hear you."

He laughed, "You must have been deep in thought indeed not to hear me."

Oswyn had been tortured by Arl Howe and his legs had never recovered completely. He was young, for that Sorcha was grateful to her parents. If she must be wed at least he wouldn't be an old man. He was also handsome; although this was silly, she had no intention of marrying Oswyn. She felt sorry for him, wasting his time on her. _If she sent him away, my parents might find someone much, much worse. Still, how could I continue to mislead him? This is too cruel._

His eyes appraised her again. _She is lovely, _he thought. He had found that she loved horses and hunting, as he did, this would be a great match for him. _A very spirited girl, but why is she so melancholy? _He took her hand and kissed it gently. "Sorcha, why do you always look so sad?"

She blushed, she didn't realize she was doing such a poor job of covering her emotions. She hesitated, debating what to say. He deserved the truth.

"I'm sorry, Ser. I..." she sighed, "I am afraid I am in love with someone else. I can't in good conscience marry you when someone else holds my heart."

Oswyn had suspected something like was behind her sadness. It was a fact of life in arranged marriages, not everyone went willingly to the altar. He thought about his options, he could continue with the courtship and hope to change her mind. Or he convince her parents to go through with it anyway. In time she would forget this love. It was probably someone of no consequence that her parents would not approve of.

"Do you think, in time, you could forget about him?" Oswyn asked her.

Sorcha shook her head. "No. I don't think I ever will."

"Does he want to marry you?" he asked.

Sorcha didn't answer immediately. _Does he? He said he loves me, _she thought_. _"Perhaps."

"You're staking your entire future on _perhaps?" _he asked. "Sorcha, I know this is awkward for us both but it seems like we are a good match. We could both do a lot worse."

Sorcha sighed, _what he says is true. _"I'm sorry, Oswyn. I truly do like you. If not for this I would be happy to be your wife, but I just cannot."

Oswyn sighed. _She is being foolish. Throwing away her future on someone unworthy. Perhaps it is best, after all. I don't need a fool for a wife. _He kissed her hand one last time and left.

* * *

Teagan paused a moment before he opened the reply from Amelia. So much depended on what she said. He tapped on the desk considering, hoping what he was fearing to be true would not be.

_I asked my staff and none of them have ever heard of anyone named Nimh. None of my servants have recently moved to Redcliffe either. I am sorry I can't help you._

Teagan swore. He put his head into his hands. _This must mean that Isolde is responsible. How could it mean anything else? How convenient too that Nimh died before she could be questioned. But what could she possibly gain from killing Eamon? If anything it lowers her status._

He thought back over everything she did or said since Eamon died. How clingy she was, the incident in her sitting room, her hatred of Sorcha. _Could it be she wants me? _He shook his head, that's just absurd, he rejected the notion. He was fairly certain she probably hated him now, since their argument. He vowed to be more cautious about what he ate and drank.

_If she did this to Eamon, what might she do to Sorcha or me? _He realized he couldn't bring Sorcha back until this was resolved. He chewed his lip for a moment then wrote another letter.

* * *

Sorcha's parents were furious when Oswyn left. They threatened to send her to the chantry, although she doubted they would as she was their only child. Sorcha's mother demanded to know who it was that Sorcha was in love with. Sorcha refused to discuss it. Finally her parents decided to confine her to the house until she revealed the miscreant.

When the message arrived her parents read it with surprise. They would be damned if she would turn this suitor down.

Her father came to her room, smiling broadly. "Sorcha, dear. Your mother and I have found another worthy suitor for you. He has agreed to take you as his wife."

Sorcha sighed heavily. "I'm not interested, father."

"Your interest is not a factor, young lady, you will be marrying him, that is already decided." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "We found you a young, handsome Bann and you sent him away. Now you'll just have to settle for someone older."

"Who is it?" she asked without any real interest.

"You'll find out when he comes to visit. Meanwhile you and your mother can start working on wedding preparations," he told her sternly and left.

Sorcha felt hot tears stinging at her eyes. _No! I won't do it._

* * *

Isolde awoke before her knight did. She nearly purred with contentment. He wasn't Teagan but he had been delightful in bed. He was beneath her station by far, unsuitable to wed, otherwise she would have considered it. However, if Teagan were out of the picture, she would inherit the Arling. Then she could marry whoever she wished. There may be a few years difference in ages, but Perth probably wouldn't care. He certainly hadn't seemed to mind last night.

Perth stirred and Isolde watched him wake. He stretched and yawned. His body was like a big cat's powerful frame.

"Good morning, my beauty," Perth said, pulling her down for a kiss. He watched her face closely, trying to read what he saw. He thought he could see something softer in her expression, affection perhaps? Maybe he was fooling himself. Still, he had been laying it on rather thick, perhaps she wasn't so jaded as to see through his artifices.

"Mmmm," she murmured as she snuggled close to him. "You certainly know how to win a lady's favor, Ser Knight," she complimented him.

He kissed her face sweetly. "You know, I am surprised, my lady," he admitted.

"Surprised, why? You are handsome and charming. You certainly know how to treat a lady, unlike some."

"I thought perhaps there was someone else you fancied," he probed.

She grew tense for a moment. He worried he might be pushing a little too hard. "Oh? Who?"

He looked into her face, "Forgive me, I am probably reading too much into things, but I almost could have sworn I saw you held some tenderness for your brother-in-law."

Her eyes narrowed, "Indeed! You are mistaken, I can barely stand the man, he dishonors his brother's memory. I just found out yesterday he intends to marry that _chat de gouttière!"_

Perth feigned shock, "No, my lady, how could he? Surely you are mistaken." He stroked her hair to soothe her.

Isolde sighed, "I shudder to think that their children will inherit this Arling while my Connor and I are shunted aside like _ordures_."

"I'm sure your brother-in-law will take care of you, my dear. Perhaps he will find you another husband?" he suggested.

Isolde grit her teeth, "He has threatened to turn me out! Just yesterday, he did." She collapsed sobbing into Perth's chest. "Oh, if only there were something we could do."

Perth's brow furrowed. _What was she suggesting_?_ This is an interesting development, _he thought. He wiped away her tears. "Don't cry, my beauty." He stroked her hair again. "What could I do to protect you?"

Her sobbing quieted. She considered whether or not she might be able to get this knight to do her bidding. "If something were to happen to Teagan, I would be safer. I would be free to marry whoever I wanted," she caressed Perth's expansive chest.

Perth was intrigued. _She is actually proposing murder_, he thought. _Could Isolde had been so self-absorbed over the years that she failed to notice he was a faithful servant to the former Arl Guerrin, risking his life for him on many occasions? _Perth didn't have any close ties to the new Arl yet, but as Eamon's brother he would never betray him. _However, I may be able to do him a service._

Perth chuckled, and squeezed Isolde closer. "Hm, I like the sound of that, my sweet." He kissed her. "Tell your devoted knight what you require of him."

He held her close, murmuring encouragement as she spilled her murderous plan out to him. She told him about a man in Denerim could arrange for things, all he would need to do is contact him and she could send money with him. He agreed with her, encouraged her, did everything he could to reassure her he was with her. _This would explain the candle, _he thought. He suspected this wasn't the first time she had made such an arrangement.

When he left her he knew he needed to talk to Teagan, but Isolde believed he would be heading to Denerim forthwith. He went to the stable, someplace Isolde never went, and sent someone to fetch Teagan.

Teagan had a half-way irritated look on his face when he met with Perth. He had not forgotten how openly Perth had flirted with Sorcha. Perth chuckled, "Don't worry, Arl, I'm not going to steal your kitten from you." Teagan's half-way irritated look turned into full irritation at the remark.

"What do you want, Ser Perth? I'm busy."

"I have some information for you, I think you'll be very interested in hearing," Perth told him. "However it is very private. I didn't want to risk being seen talking to you."

Teagan cocked his head, wondering what Perth could possibly have to say. "Yes? Please go on."

"You know, I hope, that I was very fond of your brother and I know he would want me to look after your interests, so I thought I should tell you..." he paused, "your sister-in-law is plotting to kill you."

Teagan tensed, "Somehow I'm not surprised. How did you come to learn of this?"

Perth winked, "I can be persuasive when I put my mind to it. I'll leave the rest to your imagination."

Teagan looked gravely at Perth, "Can I count on your discretion?"

Perth nodded, "Of course my lord, I am still a faithful servant of the Guerrin's."

"I believe Isolde may have been responsible for Eamon's death," Teagan said.

"Maker! That makes sense," Perth's brow furrowed. He suddenly felt horribly sullied by having spent the night with that spider.

"Explain," Teagan demanded.

Perth explained about the Candela di Amore, how she knew Cesar and seemed to know how to arrange a murder through him.

Teagan shared with him the little information about Nimh he had discovered and that Isolde had been behind her hiring.

"Isolde used that candle on me," Teagan admitted.

"Maker, no!" Perth swore.

"It didn't work entirely. I got away from her," he rubbed his forehead, "I thought I had lost my mind."

"She tried to use it with me but I recognized it," he said.

Teagan looked surprised, "Oh? You've run into these before?"

Perth looked sheepish, "The Pearl used them for awhile, until a lot of the prostitutes ended up knocked up. Seems it has quite a fertility side-effect."

Teagan swore, "Maker, can you imagine if one of us had gotten her with child?" He shuddered at the thought. She would've been able to hold it over his head.

Teagan paced nervously. He thought he was close to having enough to bring Isolde to justice. They just needed a witness. Isolde must have stopped in Denerim on the way home from Amelia's. He could confirm that with the guards who had escorted her.

"Perth, since she wants you to go to Denerim, why not go? You can try to find a witness. Talk to Cesar, maybe you can bribe the man. Also, I'll have you deliver a message to Fergus about this matter. Maybe he can be of assistance."

Perth nodded, "She gave me 250 sovereigns, that should be enough to loosen a few tongues."

Teagan wanted to run back to the castle, but he forced himself to walk. It wouldn't do to raise anyone's suspicion. On the way he wondered whether he should lock her up. _There's a slim possibility still she could be innocent, _he thought. He decided against it. Still if she had been behind Nimh's death, she was plenty dangerous when she felt cornered.

He went straight to his desk and began writing a note to Fergus describing everything and asking for help. He sealed the missive and sauntered back to the stables to give it to Perth.

Perth left that day for Denerim.

* * *

_**Note: **__Ser Perth appreciates a cougar, ya know? Just because he doesn't like her doesn't mean he wouldn't sleep with her! :)_


	15. Chapter 15

Isolde watched her knight ride off to Denerim. She felt wonderful. A happiness she hadn't felt since... well, ever, settled over her. Soon Teagan would join his brother and she would inherit the Arling. She imagined the parties she would throw, the dresses she would have made and the handsome knight she would marry. She had no experience running the Arling, she always left that to Eamon and he had always been parsimonious when it came to her allowance. That would change, she vowed.

Her happiness was evident as she came down to dinner that night. She tried to engage even Teagan in conversation but he was taciturn. Even his curtness with her couldn't dampen her exuberance. Ser Perth should be back in two weeks and then... Her smile broadened in anticipation.

* * *

King Fergus welcomed Ser Perth and took the note Teagan had written. The note detailed the events they had been able to piece together and a request for assistance in finding a witness to her hiring the assassins in Denerim.

Fergus swore and got up and paced. "Maker! Isolde?" he said, his brow furrowing.

"Your Majesty, she asked me to arrange the murder of her brother-in-law. She sent me here to hire the assassins and supplied me with the money."

Fergus rubbed his brow. "I just can't believe Isolde would do this."

Perth nodded, "It hasn't been easy for Teagan to accept either."

"She could hang for her murder plot against Teagan," he mused, "Is it really necessary to look any further?"

Perth shrugged, "I think Teagan still wants to believe that she could be innocent of murdering his brother. Or perhaps she didn't act alone, maybe someone else planted the seed. He just wants to make sure justice is done for his brother."

Fergus nodded, "That's reasonable." He thought for a moment, "There might be someone that can help you far better than I could. My brother-in-law is here, he comes to Denerim periodically to buy supplies," _And make deliveries, _he thought. He knew Zevran was delivering candles to Cesar. It had become a very lucrative business for him. Those candles had done a lot to secure heirs to many noble lines, including his own.

He sent someone to track down Zevran.

* * *

"Cesar, my old friend!" Zevran clasped forearms with his sole distributor for the _Candela di Amore _in Denerim.

Cesar returned the Antivan greeting and smiled broadly. Zevran was making him a very wealthy man. Soon he could retire in style.

"I have a favor to ask, my friend," Zevran flashed a smile.

"Anything for you, amico," Cesar said.

Zevran wondered just exactly how earnestly he meant that. Revealing secrets such as the one he was about to ask was _proibito_. If word got out, it could ruin his reputation and his business.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere more private to chat," he suggested. He led the man to the Gnawed Noble and ordered a bottle of their finest Antivan wine to be delivered to one of the private rooms. When the wine arrived they toasted Antiva, homeland of both men.

"Now, Zevran, what can Cesar do for you?" he sipped his wine. _Excellent vintage_, he thought.

"Cesar, I know this is asking for a lot but I need to know something about one of your clients, a lady you might have assisted about eight weeks ago. She may have asked you about murdering her husband."

Cesar looked surprised to hear this request from Zevran, he knew better than to inquire. _What is he playing at?_ "Zevran, my friend, you know _codice d'onore _forbids me from revealing these matters. My reputation would be _perdita_, perhaps even my life."

Zevran nodded. He knew it would be about impossible to drag this out of Cesar. "Of course, Cesar, I would normally never inquire but this is a matter that has attracted the attention of the crown." He thought for a moment. "Can you tell me who you would send such a person to? That way I can keep you out of this affair."

Cesar thought about it, Zevran could probably find this out in other ways, it wouldn't necessarily be traced back to him. However, he was not about to give up the information without making sure he profited from it. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Amico, I think we can come to an agreement," he said.

Cesar asked for the moon, the formula to the candela. Zevran laughed and counter-offered, exclusive sales in Ferelden for one year. Eventually they came to an agreement. One that Zevran was not too pleased with but it left Cesar in a sharing mood.

"You'll want to talk to the barkeeper at _The Devil's Hall." _I always send small jobs to him. I don't know who he ends up sending them to, but he is the gatekeeper.

Zevran smiled warmly. "Thank you, amico."

"Just keep me out of this, Zevran," Cesar said.

They lingered over the bottle of wine and discussed business, Antiva, and plans for the future.

Zevran went to _The Devil's Hall_. He ordered a glass of brandy from the barkeeper. He paid him ten sovereigns for the glass. The barkeeper's eyes bulged at the sum.

"My friend, I'm looking for a little information," he said. "There was a woman who may have come, looking for some help with a matter requiring discretion about eight weeks ago?"

The barkeeper shrugged, "Lots of people look for help. How should I keep track?"

Zevran knew the game, he placed a small stack of coins on the counter. "Brown hair, Orlesian accent?"

The bartender eyed the stack of coins, Zevran could see him weakening. He added two more sovereigns to the stack. The barkeeper was practically twitching as the stack grew. Nothing was said. Zevran knew he had offered more than enough, the barkeeper was just testing the waters. Zevran slowly reached forward to cup his hand over the coins, as if to withdraw them.

"Yeah, I seen her," the barkeeper licked his lips nervously. "I sent her to Delicate Dann."

Zevran kept his hand over the coins. "Where is this Delicate Dann now?"

"I don't know, he left not long after that and never returned."

Zevran smiled. "Give me a description of Delicate Dann, what did he look like?"

The bartender described him in fair detail. Zevran pushed the stack of coins to him and left, happy he didn't have to resort to other methods. If Fergus were anyone else, he would owe Zevran a large sum of money for the few hours of work, but who keeps track when it comes to family?

Zevran returned to Perth and Fergus.

"Isolde is your murderess," he told them everything he had discovered.

"The woman must be mad," Fergus sighed heavily.

"Or in love," Perth suggested.

Fergus looked at him questioningly.

"I think she did away with Eamon thinking she could seduce Teagan. She tried to use the candle on him," he said. "He resisted somehow. The man must have a will of iron."

Zevran shook his head, "No, not really. Unless you use a lot of candles they're not so strong as to make you act completely against your inclinations."

"Teagan rejecting her sent her over the edge," Perth said. "She started to realize she was going to lose everything and she decided to remove him so she could have the Arling. She probably also murdered the woman who actually carried out the poisoning." He described what Teagan had told him about the gory scene in the basement of the castle.

Zevran looked astonished. "Impressive for an amateur."

Fergus looked disgusted. "Ser Perth, I'm going to send some troops with you to arrest her and return her to Denerim for a trial. Zevran, let me know where we can find this barkeeper to testify if necessary."

Zevran told him. "I don't think you'll find he is a willing witness. But I might be able to help with that."

Fergus understood what Zevran was implying and he nodded. Zevran often offended Fergus's sensibilities but he couldn't deny his usefulness.

"Stay for dinner, you two, I'd like to hear of any other, hopefully cheerier, news you may have," Fergus invited the pair.

* * *

She felt the trap was closing in on her; the fittings for her wedding dress, the compilation of her trousseau. All while her parents kept details from her, when, where, and most importantly who. Even though a sick, hungry feeling gnawed at her stomach she could barely eat. All she wanted to do was sleep. _Where is Teagan? Why doesn't he come?_

_"_Sorcha, you have to eat. Your dress is going to have to be taken in if you don't," her mother scolded.

That was enough to make her eat even less. Maybe her wedding dress would fall off her in the ceremony. She laughed at that, first time in weeks she had laughed, but it was bitter and it made tears sting behind her eyes again.

That night she came to a decision. She would leave. _Better to live with the man I love as his mistress than marry someone I don't love, _she thought. She threw some clothes in a bag. Put on a heavy cloak and gathered some supplies. She took the fastest horse out of the stable and headed toward Redcliffe. She pushed the horse for as long as she could but gave him frequent breaks for water and rest. She knew she was making good time. She could get there before sunrise if nothing slowed her down.

She wasn't exactly sure what her plan was beyond seeing Teagan and telling him about her imminent marriage and hoping he would somehow put a stop to it. Doubts kept assaulting her, _What if he doesn't want me any longer? Why didn't he sent her a message?_ She nearly convinced herself that he had lost interest in her, but she remembered how he had told her he loved her and his story about taking her to the Circle Tower. Reminding herself of that calmed her mind. _He loves me, he loves me, he loves me... _she kept chanting it to herself to crowd out everything else.

The gate was down when she got to the castle but the guard recognized her and let her pass. She took her horse to the stable and got him settled. It would be hours yet before anyone was up. She didn't want to disturb the castle so she curled up in a corner of the stable and went to sleep.

She dreamed of arms wrapping around her and someone softly speaking her name, whispering it gently in her ear. She stirred and woke, her eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep.

"Teagan!" she said when she realized it hadn't been a dream. She threw her arms around his neck. "I... had to run away."

Teagan cocked his head looking at her quizzically. "Why?" he asked, "Not that I'm not very happy to see you, but what on earth happened?"

Sorcha began to cry. "When I went home my parents immediately started the matchmaking. I got rid of the first one."

Teagan chuckled, "Got rid of him? What on earth do you do to these poor suitors?"

Sorcha looked at him with shock, "How can you laugh? They're going to marry me off to someone. Some old man, they said. They won't even tell me who it is. I told them 'no', but they won't listen to me."

Teagan drew back. "An old man?" His feelings were hurt. He knew he had fifteen years on her, but he hardly considered himself old.

She nodded. "They were so mad when I sent Bann Sighard's son off, I'm sure they did it just to spite me." She buried her face in Teagan's shoulder and sobbed.

Teagan smiled, _Sorcha's parents were being a little harsh, she must have really vexed them. _"Shush, darling. Your parents didn't tell you who this man was? Why didn't they tell you?"

"Probably so I wouldn't be horrified and run away," she said, "or find some other way to ruin it."

"Oh Sorcha," he sighed heavily, "Your parents have agreed to the marriage. There is nothing that can be done now. You can't back out." Teagan hugged her, feeling a little guilty.

Sorcha's stared at him in disbelief. "No," she moaned. "You can stop it, can't you?"

Teagan shook his head sadly. "I cannot. Wars have been started over such things as broken marriage contracts." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to marry this awful, _old man_."

She looked at him with such a look of hurt, he thought his heart would tear in two. "I thought you loved me?" she said.

He smiled at her, deciding he had teased her enough. "I do, Sorcha. That's why I wrote to your parents asking for your hand, although I'm a little hurt they called me an '_old man'_."

Sorcha was stunned at first, then furious. Her face flushed red. "How could you... I believed for weeks someone else... what sort of mean game are you playing?" She was about to get up and storm away but he grasped her wrists and pulled her close.

"Just hear me out, my love, then if you're still angry you can punch me." He pulled her to him so her head was tucked under his chin. "I sent your parents that letter, I didn't know they weren't going to tell you it was from me. I would have come personally but events have required I stay here."

Sorcha groaned. _I'm such an idiot! _she thought. "I'm sorry. It's my own fault. I refused to tell my parents about us and they knew I was in love with someone, they didn't know it was you."

She kissed him softly. She had missed him so much, being near him again was intoxicating. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to hers and kissed him. She inhaled his scent and kissed him on the eyes tenderly. Teagan sighed under her gentle touch.

Teagan chuckled, "We'd better stop this, we might panic the horses."

"Sod the horses," she said smiling against his mouth.

He got up and helped her to her feet. "I'd better send a messenger off to your parents to let them know you're safe and where you are." They walked back to the castle. "You know you're going to have to go back home. It won't look right if you stay here."

Her brow furrowed, "I don't care."

Teagan sighed, "I know, I don't either but your parents do and they're going to be my future in-laws, and they're your parents, so that is why it matters."

She was so tired she nearly stumbled over her own feet, Teagan caught her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm just so tired from riding all night."

Teagan walked her to her old room. She looked at him. "I like your room better," she said.

He shook his head. "Oh no, I think you'll rest better here." He opened the door for her and put her bag down. He kissed her and judging by the way her eyes were nearly shutting he thought she would be asleep in no time. "Rest well, my love."

She collapsed wearily on her bed and fell asleep immediately, before he even left. She hadn't even bothered to change or take off her riding boots. He went over to the bed and unlaced her boots and pulled them off. He rummaged through her bag not finding any sleeping apparel. He decided he should at least let her sleep in her smalls, that would be more comfortable. He unlaced her shirt and pulled it off. He tried not to stare but the sight reminded him of that one erotic night they had. He tried to school his imagination to less erotic thoughts. It didn't help that he still had to remove her riding breeches. He unlaced them and carefully tugged them down, trying not to wake her. _Oh Maker, her legs are so long. _He was having difficulty not imagining them wrapped around him. He pulled down the blankets and arranged them around her. He needed to leave, _now_!

He stood and took a deep breath, one last glance at her sleeping peacefully, and he left. It took him quite awhile to collect himself. He went to his study and wrote out a note to her parents, promising to return her in a few days. He also promised himself to keep his hands off her until they were married.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Note: **__Oh my, we're getting to the end! Probably one more chapter after this. I adore all your reviews, thanks so much and keep 'em coming, they really help motivate me to write! I hope you like this. This scene has been playing out in my head for a few days now. Although I admit it ended up a lot different than I thought it would! You read to find out what happens next. I write to find out what happens next. :)_

* * *

Sorcha woke in time for dinner. She didn't have any dresses with her so she dressed in the clean breeches and shirt she had packed. She looked for Teagan. Someone told her he was in Eamon's study. Sorcha hadn't been in his study since the night they had found Eamon. She knocked at the closed door and heard him say, "Come in". She pushed the door open and took in the study. It was exactly as it had been. Nothing had changed. It nearly overwhelmed her with the emotions and memories.

"Shut the door, Sorcha," he asked her.

"How can you work here?" she wondered. She walked over to him and kissed the top of his head. He put an arm around her and pulled her onto his lap and kissed her softly.

"I have to get used to it sooner or later. It's difficult not to feel his presence here," he sighed. "So far the only thing I've touched in this room is his desk."

She nodded. "Maybe with time... all I can see is him the night we found him."

"Did you get some sleep, my love?" he asked.

"Yes, although now I doubt I'll sleep tonight." She paused a moment, "Although that could be a good thing, no?" She pecked him on the lips and looked at him with a suggestive smile.

He chuckled, "No, it wouldn't. I promised myself I wasn't going to touch you again until our wedding night, and I meant it."

She frowned, "What? That ridiculous. A promise that should be broken and immediately." She bent her head and kissed his ear, nibbling and sucking on his ear lobe. Her hand went to his neck and began caressing him. She wasn't exactly an experienced seducer but she would employ every trick she had picked up so far.

Teagan sucked in a breath, "Stop that," he said gruffly. "I mean it, Sorcha. We are going to behave."

Her dark eyes smoldered at him, "_We _are? Speak for yourself."

Teagan could feel his self-control slipping, when she breathed, "I want you, Teagan," into his ear and then delicately licked his ear, he ground his teeth together and swore under his breath. He stood suddenly, nearly dumping her out of his lap. He held her away from him and wouldn't even look at her while he took measured breaths.

"No, Sorcha." Finally he pulled her close again, "I just want our wedding night to be special. A night we'll never forget and we'll try to recreate for the rest of our lives."

She gave up her rebellious plan, "Oh, all right, I'll stop tormenting you," she kissed him chastely on the cheek, "for now." She smiled wickedly. "Oh, I meant to tell you, I don't really have anything appropriate to wear for dinner."

"Hm, we can give you a hunk of bread and a glass of water in the kitchen then," he poked her in the ribs. "Of course, my love. Just ignore whatever comes out of Isolde's mouth. It probably won't be much, she rather hates me now."

"Oh?" Sorcha asked, "what did you do? Violate a sacred tenant of fashion?" She just couldn't help the catty remark.

Teagan laughed. "No, we just had... words. I don't want to involve you, Sorcha. Just trust me. Keep busy with wedding plans and all that."

She looked at him like he had slipped a cog. "Do you really see me as the sort interested in wedding plans?"

"Not even for our wedding?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. "What's your dress look like?"

She shrugged. "It's white. I wasn't paying attention, except they had to keep taking it in because I stopped eating. Starving myself was one of my plans to get out of the wedding."

Teagan shook his head, "Well let's go to dinner. I want my bride to be plump."

"Mother will be angry if they now have to let the dress out," she laughed.

He wrapped her hand around his elbow and escorted her to the sitting room outside the dining room, as if she were the finest lady dressed in silks, not wearing her well-worn riding gear.

There were a few knights, minus Ser Perth, the mayor and a few other notables assembled, and of course, Isolde.

A servant brought them drinks.

Teagan cleared his throat. "My friends, I'd like to introduce you all to my beautiful fiance, Sorcha Keenan. We are to be married at Redcliffe Castle soon. You are all invited, of course!" He kissed her on the cheek and raised his glass, "To the beautiful huntress, Sorcha!" The assembled guests drank and congratulated Teagan. Sorcha's eyes threatened to tear up. She was getting annoyed at that tendency she seemed to have acquired lately.

She tried hard not to, but eventually she looked at Isolde. She looked oddly happy, almost as if she were glad they were getting married. That really surprised her.

Isolde came up to the couple, "I'm so happy for you both," she hugged Sorcha. "Just think, we'll be sisters, Sorcha!" She kissed her on the cheek. _And you'll be widowed before you're even married, _she thought, _such a pity._ _Ser Perth should be back any day now. Perhaps Teagan will die in your arms, petit chat. Quelle tragédie!_

Sorcha noticed that Teagan ignored Isolde, if anything a look of irritation crossed his face. _Things must have been interesting while I was away, _she thought.

Teagan led Sorcha into the dining room and the rest of the diners followed.

* * *

The next morning Sorcha woke very early, she got her bows and went out to practice at the archery range. She was a little rusty, having gone a couple of weeks without any serious practice. By the end of her practice she felt almost back to where she was before. She promised herself she would practice more consistently. She was pulling arrows out of the target when she heard horses approaching. She ran to the front gate to see and saw Ser Perth at the front of a cadre of men in uniforms she didn't recognize.

"Sorcha!" Ser Perth greeted her. He jumped off his horse and gave her a warm hug. "You're back! It's good to see you."

"Ser Perth," she said politely, a little overwhelmed by his friendly greeting. "What is going on?" She gestured at the men who had stopped short of the gate.

"Royal guards from Denerim," he said. He lowered his voice, "They're here to arrest Isolde for Eamon's death."

Sorcha's mouth fell open with shock. She couldn't help but look up toward where Isolde's window overlooked the courtyard. "Isolde?" she shook her head in disbelief.

Ser Perth nodded, "And she was plotting to kill Teagan next."

Sorcha gasped, "No! Teagan!" She was ready to turn around and run into the castle to warn him. Panic shot through her, making her heart beat madly.

Ser Perth grabbed her hand, "It's ok, Sorcha, he knows. He can take care of himself. She's not exactly dangerous, she tends to get other people to do her dirty deeds."

Sorcha took a deep breath and tried to relax.

"Where is Teagan?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Sometimes he has breakfast in the garden if the morning is nice. He wasn't up when I got up," she said.

"You didn't wake him up when you got out of bed?" Ser Perth asked, his face creasing with a sly smile.

"Oh!" Her cheeks went red. "I... We..." she sputtered, "that's none of your business!"

He bowed and kissed her hand. "Of course not, I just wanted to see your lovely blush again." He paused, "Perhaps you should stay out here until we've got her in custody."

Her brow furrowed with worry. "All right."

Perth and the guards rode into the courtyard and dismounted. She picked up her longbow and quiver and sat on the front steps, waiting for the crowd in the courtyard to clear out. The Redcliffe soldiers took care of the horses and the Royal guard eventually went into the castle. It took them quite awhile to sort out the chaos of soldiers and horses. Then she watched them clanking up the stairs in their heavy armor. Despite all of Ser Perth's reassurances she couldn't help but worry.

She decided to walk around the castle and just peek into the garden to see if Teagan was there. As she neared the garden she heard Ser Perth yelling from inside the castle. Her heart skipped a few beats. It sounded as if it were coming from near the garden. She hurried, but took care to not be seen.

* * *

Isolde was getting dressed still. She had just started to powder her face she heard the noises from the front of the castle. She went to her window and saw Ser Perth talking to Isolde. He was leading... _Maker! He has royal guards with him! That bête! That filthy traitorous beast! _She threw a jar of expensive face cream across the room and barely suppressed a shriek of rage. Tears ran down her face, leaving streaks in the powder. She ran her hands through her hair, making it half fall from her tidy bun.

Something in her snapped. _It is Teagan's fault! _She grabbed the dagger she had used to kill Nimh and stuck it under her bodice. She also grabbed up her sleeping drought. She ran out of her room and asked the first servant she saw, "Where is Teagan?" she hissed. The servant recoiled from her frightened by her crazed appearance. "My lady, I believe he's in the garden having his breakfast." The servant was holding a pot of tea, "I'll take that to him," she snapped. She snatched the pot from the servant. "Go to the kitchen!" she hissed.

As soon as the servant was out of sight she poured the entire contents of her sleeping draught bottle into the teapot, enough there to knock out an army. She found another servant and gave them the teapot. "Take this to the Arl, in the garden. Refill his cup from this." The servant took the pot, only too happy to get away from her, she looked insane.

The Arl was sitting on a stone bench in the garden, a pot of tea already next to him. The servant brought him the new pot and refilled his cup from it. "Fresh pot, my lord." He set it down and took the other pot. Teagan didn't even seem to notice. He was absorbed in reading his correspondence. He picked up his cup and took a sip from it. It tasted bitter and had a strange sickly sweet scent to it, one he didn't notice until he had sipped it. He dropped the cup realizing too late, it had been poisoned. He stood up and tried to walk but his legs gave out and he fell back onto the bench, his head reeling. His eyes drooped, he nearly lost consciousness, but he fought it. His last lucid thought was to make himself throw up. He concentrated hard, trying to move his hand to his mouth. With one last effort he rammed his finger down his throat. He gagged and some of the tea came back up.

A little clarity returned to him. He couldn't quite focus his eyes on the form shrieking at him and moving towards him. She stood behind him shouting, yelling, he couldn't make out a single word. Just the press of steel against his throat.

_Shrieking. Cursing. Shrill sounds grating his ears._

_Steel sliding out of scabbards. Men shouting._

_A sting at his throat. Warmth, tickling his chest, dripping down._

_Noise amplified a thousand times. The shrieking seemed like sandpaper on his nerves._

_Then a pure sound._

_The sound of air parting to accommodate a speeding object. An eagle diving to capture a pigeon._

_Silence. No shrill shrieking._

_No men shouting._

He fell. Grateful for the silence at last.

* * *

Ser Perth lead the troops to the garden. Isolde had been seen heading that way. When they got there they saw Teagan looking mostly unconscious and Isolde holding a dagger to his throat, shrieking at him in Orlesian.

"Isolde," Ser Perth stepped forward, holding his hands up. "Let the Arl go."

"No! Come any closer and he dies." She yelled shrilly.

Ser Perth took another step forward and Isolde pierced his neck slightly with her dagger, enough for a good trickle of blood. Enough to show she meant business.

"You filthy beast," she shouted at Perth, "you betrayed me! I should kill you!"

"Isolde, come. We're not going to hurt you. We just need to ask a few questions. Please, put down the knife."

She shook her head, her wild hair flew. "No! Leave now or I will kill him! I will not come with you to be humiliated and treated like a common criminal. Either let me go, or I will kill Teagan."

Perth was about to return the guards to the castle to think of another plan, but he saw motion behind the garden. He saw a flash of red and recognized Sorcha climbing a tree with her bow. He would keep Isolde occupied.

"Isolde, if you let Teagan go, we'll let you go. You just need to make the first move," he told her.

"You filthy lying beast, why should I believe you? When have you ever told me the truth?" she screamed.

Perth had to give her credit, he didn't exactly have a good honesty track record with her. He watched Sorcha get herself settled on a thick tree branch.

Perth nodded, looking at the tree. He hoped Isolde had thought the nod was directed to her and he hoped Sorcha saw him nod. Then he saw her nod back. _She understood._

"Okay, Isolde. Have it your way. We're going. Let the Arl go." He gestured to the assembled guards and they turned around and started shuffling back, slowly.

Isolde was shrieking something at their backs, he couldn't quite make out what it was.

* * *

Sorcha edged around to the garden and saw Teagan being held by Isolde, a knife at his throat. He looked nearly unconscious and there was blood dripping down his throat. She fought back her panic. She angled around the outside of the garden. There was a tall fence at the back, blocking her from having a clear shot. She found a broad old oak tree, with thick branches. She quickly scaled it and found a good seat on one branch. Her longbow was awkward in the space she had to work with but it had the range and accuracy she would need. She wiggled around until she felt she had herself seated well and could still get a good draw on the bow. The guards were turning around to leave.

She could see the side of Isolde's head, her neck, her shoulder. But Teagan was so close... She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. _Maker, guide my arrow. _She tried not to think of what missing might mean to her and Teagan. She saw Ser Perth look directly at her and nod. She nodded back.

She nocked her arrow and cleared her mind. She drew, took a deep breath and held it, aiming. She let the arrow fly. As soon as the arrow left her bow she began trembling, vibrating with fear like the string vibrated on her bow. It seemed to fly forever, an eternity in the air.

The shrieking stopped. She stared at Isolde as the arrow pierced the center of her ear and sank into her skull. A small trickle of bright blood dripped down her neck and she crumbled slowly. She dropped the dagger and Teagan fell too. She screamed his name and scrambled down the tree over the fence. She ran to him, ignoring Isolde.

Perth turned just as he was about to exit through the door into the castle. He saw the arrow seemingly sprout out of Isolde's ear. He could only stare in amazement for a few seconds until he realized that Teagan had collapsed. He ran across the garden to Teagan.

Sorcha got to him just after Ser Perth. She fell to her knees sobbing. She checked his neck, just a small wound. He was breathing, his pulse was strong but slow. "Teagan, please don't leave me." She slapped his cheek lightly, her mind flashed back to when he had done that to Eamon. She choked back a sob. He stirred a little.

"Poison, I think," She looked around, their was a teapot nearby. "Check the teapot."

Perth held the teapot to his nose and took a sniff. "Laudanum. Very strong." He paused to think. "Lets walk him around, it'll work out of his system faster."

He gestured a couple of guards over and they supported Teagan between them and started walking around the garden with him. He could move his legs a little.

Sorcha crumpled into a little heap on the ground. She cried and shook from all the fear she had pushed away while making the shot. Perth sat next to her, trying to comfort her. They waited and watched to see if Teagan was getting better. Long minutes ticked by. Finally Teagan lifted his head, "Stop," he said weakly. She leapt up to him and felt his pulse and watched him breathe. His pulse felt a little quicker, his breathing seemed deeper.

Her eyes sprouted tears. "I think he's going to be okay!" She turned to Ser Perth, he got up and hugged her, crushing her to his plate mail. "Can you have him taken to his bedroom?"

Perth gave the order and Teagan was carried to his bedroom. Sorcha organized a few servants and had them rushing around for water, wash cloths, a stimulating tea drink and anything else she could think of.

She had Ser Perth help her undress him and they got him tucked into his bed.

His eyes opened briefly and he mumbled something. Sorcha was across the room, she couldn't make it out. "Did you hear what he said, Perth?" She looked over at him, he had a broad grin on his face.

"Yes," he laughed, "he said, _Don't take advantage of me in this state, Sorcha_." He watched her cheeks flame red again. "Apparently he likes to make you blush too."

She went over to him and murmured in his ear something Perth couldn't hear, although he tried very hard. He saw Teagan smile just a bit.

"Well, I should leave you two alone," Perth winked slyly at her.

Sorcha went over to him and hugged him; a big man in a whole lot of plate armor, it wasn't easy to do. "Thank you, Ser Perth."

He shrugged, "You're the one who saved him, Sorcha. I never saw such an amazing shot. Right in the sodding ear, girl! You really have to talk Teagan into letting me show you how to use the crossbow." He clasped her again and left her alone with Teagan.

She lay down on the bed with him and just listened to his heart beating and his lungs working. Eventually she felt his hand find her hair. When she felt certain he was getting stronger she let herself fall asleep to the sound of his strong heart.

* * *

Sorcha had to extend her stay to look after Teagan. He recovered rapidly but she made him stay in bed longer than he wished, mostly because she enjoyed doting on him. He was a willing accomplice for awhile but he couldn't stay still.

"Sorcha, I'm fine. I'm getting up. Leave so I can get dressed," he said.

"Why the sudden modesty? I've been bathing you for the last two days, my love. You didn't seem to mind me seeing your naked bits."

Teagan blushed. "I was unconscious. I would have objected, but I couldn't."

Sorcha looked at him mischievously. "I don't think you were unconscious, you were just pretending."

"I never!" he protested.

She laughed at him. "All right, I'll let you have your way. But I'm going to get my revenge on our wedding night."

Teagan growled at her and pulled her into a fierce kiss. This time Sorcha pulled away. "Look," she said, "unless you want me to torture you everyday until we're married with attempted seductions, then you'd better not do that, _my lord."_

She planted a chaste kiss on his forehead and left him alone to dress.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Note:** Finally the conclu_sion! _Sorry it took so long!_

Connor listened impassively as Teagan tried to tell him as gently as possible about his mother's death. He told him about the crimes his mother committed; how she killed his father, tried to kill Teagan, and killed two others. Nothing reflected from his face; his expression was serious, as usual. Teagan wondered if he was even hearing him or processing the information. _What kind of impact would this leave on a young man? _Teagan thought. _E__specially a young mage? _

Teagan decided against telling him that he was marrying the woman who killed his mother. He hoped that Connor would never learn about it, or that if he did he would understand. Perhaps that was cowardly on his part, but he felt he was already laying far too heavy a burden on the boy's shoulders.

Connor simply hugged his Uncle, thanked him for the news and returned to his room. Teagan stayed for a few days, trying to reconnect with the boy but he simply did not respond. He spoke to the First Enchanter about his nephew's unresponsiveness and lack of emotion.

First Enchanter Irving looked worried. "He does feel it, my lord. But he is afraid to give vent to those emotions, especially considering what happened a couple years ago when his father was ill." Irving cleared his throat, "Yesterday, Connor asked that he be made tranquil."

Teagan looked at Irving, worry creasing his forehead, "You're not seriously considering that." He phrased it more as an order than a question.

Irving shook his head. "No, not unless he shows signs he simply can't cope, then we'll have no choice." He thought for a moment, "We'll find the lad an empathetic mentor, someone that can draw him out, show him ways to experience the emotions without losing control of himself."

Teagan nodded. "Is there anything more I can do?" he said.

Irving shook his head. "It's best to leave us to handle this. Family dynamics can put a lot of stress on a mage; that is one reason we separate them from their families. I know it is difficult, but you need to let Connor go now. Cut ties with him completely so he can learn that his family is here, with the mages in the tower now. I know you had to tell him about his mother, because sooner or later it would have gotten back to him, but now let us take over from here."

The words Irving spoke hurt. Connor was his last link to Eamon. To be told to let him go, not visit, not write, was another loss to add to his list. _Am I being selfish?_ Teagan thought. He took a boat back to Redcliffe, mourning the loss of Eamon anew, and now Eamon's son as well.

* * *

The patch of upturned earth was unmarked. There was no indication of what lay below. The Isolde that once was, years ago, the one who would have sacrificed herself for her son, was unmemorialized. The earth did not care about good deeds. It swallowed her as eagerly as it swallows anyone. The living had forgotten her good deeds as well; they were erased by blood. The earth did not care about crimes either, though the people left behind would not so easily forget.

The grass would eventually fill the bare patch of soil and her final resting spot would be indistinguishable from any other patch of grass. Absolution and anonymity would be the earth's final gift to her.

* * *

Sorcha went home a different girl than the one who had run away a week before. She apologized to her parents for being so difficult and uncooperative. That in itself left her parents astonished. Then the tale that tumbled out - about her love for Teagan, chasing down murderers, nearly dying, describing Isolde's crimes and ultimately killing Isolde - left them stunned. While Mother was angry that her daughter had risked her life, Father was proud. However, both were happy that their daughter was in love with the man she was to wed.

As they packed up her things in preparation for the trip to Redcliffe Castle, her father presented her with his wedding gift: a beautiful horse he had bought just for her. Its coat was nearly the same red as her hair. She rode it to Redcliffe, looking forward to testing her horse against the power of Osgar and the fleetness of Rosheen.

When they arrived at Redcliffe Castle, the soldiers were lined up at attention to welcome them. Teagan caught her as she slid down from her horse and kissed her cheek. His face finally looked unencumbered from his illness, the grief and the stress of all that had happened with Isolde. _He is happy_, Sorcha thought. Her face reflected her own happiness.

The wedding was the elaborate affair her mother had planned. Sorcha felt like an Orlesian pastry in her wedding dress. Her red hair was put up, falling around one shoulder and her neck in a cascade of ringlets, and it was adorned with tiny pink and white flowers.

Teagan's breath caught in his chest when he saw his bride. He had thought her beautiful in her worn hunting clothes, splashed with stag's blood, but like this... she was a vision. When she joined him before the Revered Mother, he caught her hand in his and kissed it gently. He spoke another silent prayer of thanks to the Maker for this second chance at happiness. It was difficult to believe that a few months ago he nearly destroyed himself pursuing an obsessive vision of a woman who did not love him. _This is real, _he thought.

After the lengthy dinner they retired to his rooms... _their rooms_, he reminded himself. His eyes glowed with anticipation as he tried to figure out how to get her out of her wedding dress.

"I think you need to unhook this first," she said.

He looked where she was trying to point, some spot on her back. He finally found the cleverly hidden hook.

"Then, this button," she looked over her shoulder trying to see her own back, pointing to something on her back.

His fingers worked the button free; found another hook, then a cleverly concealed clasp, then some laces. _Was this dress designed by a dressmaker or a mad puzzle-master? _he wondered.

Finally, with a whispered swish of crisp fabric, it fell from her, pooling about her feet like a snow drift. She stood before him clad in a layer of underthings that concealed her, like tissue paper might conceal a gift. He expressed his approval with a throaty growl.

At last the weeks of self-denial, the teasing, and the chaste kisses could come to a satisfying end. He made love to her carefully, taking her maidenhead gently, making certain she experienced all the passion and pleasure he did. He led her in an exploration of both their bodies and they began a lifetime of learning how to please one another. He found her not entirely without knowledge, _The Rose of Orlais _had laid the groundwork, and all she lacked was experience.

As he lay with her asleep in his arms he thought of his brother. _I am happy, Eamon. Thank you, _he thought. His brother had been responsible for the two of them coming together, throwing them together at every opportunity, trying to get Teagan to get over his obsession. His plan had worked.

* * *

"Hold still," he told her.

"It tickles," she complained.

"There, hold it like that."

He stood back, getting the proper perspective. "Perfect," he said with a smile.

She had her hand draped over a branch and the tree's leaves were arrayed over her naked chest, thus the tickling. It felt odd to be naked in the forest. She hoped other hunters wouldn't come down this deer path and find them. Fortunately it was warm. Summer was waning, but there had been a lovely hot spell and the sunshine that managed to pierce the forest felt good on her skin.

He began sketching his vision of her; a dryad emerging from the tree she slumbers in. The leaves strategically hid things Fereldan's weren't used to seeing depicted in art. Her hair would spring from the red bark of the tree. He thought the pale green of early spring would suit this painting best, although there was much to appreciate about fall colors and her hair. Perhaps he would have to paint this more than once. Maybe once for each season.

When he finished the sketch he showed it to her. She admired his work - he truly was a talented artist. But there was something she wanted to see in the picture. "It needs a stag," she told him. She told him about the dream she'd had of him once, as a gentle stag. He liked her idea and sketched in a stag that watched her behind the trees.

The finished painting hung in their bedroom, as Teagan was not comfortable with other men looking at the nearly naked dryad who so closely resembled his wife. She loved the stag in the painting; it looked at the dryad in exactly the same way Teagan looked at her, with passion and love.

* * *

**_Another note: _**_My thanks to brownc0at for beta-reading! I also need to thank Hector Berlioz for writing Symphonie Fantastique which inspired the story. I confess that the whole first chapter is a rip off of the program notes for the piece of music, although with a distinctly Dragon Age twist._


End file.
